BOSTON,  135  WASHINGTON  STREET, 
DECEMBER,  1852. 


NEW  BOOKS  AND  NEW  EDITIONS 

PUBLISHED    BY 

TICKNOR,  REED,  AND  FIELDS. 

HENRY  W.  LONGFELLOW'S  WRITINGS. 

THE   GOLDEN   LEGEND.     A   Poem.     Just   published. 

Price  $1.00. 

POETICAL. WORKS.    This  edition  contains  the  six  Vol- 
umes mentioned  below.    In  two  volumes.   IGmo.    Boards.   $2.00. 

In  separate  Volumes,  each  75  cents. 

VOICES  OF  THE  NIGHT. 

BALLADS  AND  OTHER  POEMS. 

SPANISH  STUDENT  ;   A  PLAY  IN  THREE  ACTS. 

BELFRY  OF  BRUGES,  AND  OTHER  POEMS. 

EvANGELlNE  ;     A   TALE    OF   AcADIE. 

THE  SEASIDE  AND  THE  FIRESIDE. 

THE  WAIF.     A  Collection  of  Poems.     Edited  by  Longfellow. 

THE  ESTRAY.     A  Collection  of  Poems.     Edited  by  Longfellow. 

MR.  LONGFELLOW'S  PROSE  WORKS. 
HYPERION.     A  ROMANCE.     Price  $1.00. 
OUTRE-MER.     A  PILGRIMAGE.    Price  $1.00. 
KAVANAGH.    A  TALE.    Price  75  cents. 

NATHANIEL  HAWTHORNE'S  WRITINGS. 

TWICE-TOLD  TALES.     Two  Volumes.     Price  $1.50. 
THE  SCARLET  LETTER.     Price  75  cents. 
THE  HOUSE  OF  THE    SEVEN  GABLES.     Price  $1.00. 
THE     SNOW     IMAGE,     AND     OTHER     TWICE-TOLD 

TALES.     l'i ice  75  cents. 

THE  BLITHEDALE  ROMANCE.     Price  75  cents. 

TRUE    STORIES   FROM   HISTORY   AND  BIOGRAPHY. 

With  luur  line  Engravings.     Price  75  cents. 

A  WONDER  BOOK  FOR  GIRLS  AND  BOYS.    With  seven 

fine  Enyravin^a.     Price  75  cents. 


J  A  LIST  OF  BOOKS  RECENTLY  PUBLISHED 

JOHN   G.  WHITTIER'S  WRITINGS. 

OLD  PORTRAITS  AND  MOD.  SKETCHES.    Price  75  cents. 
MARGARET  SMITH'S  JOURNAL.    Price  75  cents. 
SONGS  OF  LABOR,  AND  OTHER  POEMS.  Boards.  50  cts. 
THE  CHAPEL  OF  THE  HERMITS. 

OLIVER  WENDELL  HOLMES'S  WRITINGS. 

POETICAL  WORKS.    With  fine  Portrait.   Boards.   $1.00. 
ASTR^EA.    Fancy  paper.   Price  25  cents. 

ALFRED  TENNYSON'S  WRITINGS. 
POETICAL  WORKS.    With.  Portrait.   2  vols.  Boards.  $1.50. 
THE  PRINCESS.    Boards.  Price  50  cents. 
IN  MEMORIAM.     Cloth.   Price  75  cents. 

THOMAS    DE  QUINCEY'S  WRITINGS. 

CONFESSIONS  OF  AN  ENGLISH  OPIUM-EATER,  AND 
SUSPUUA  Dti  PKOFUNins.    With  Portrait.     Price  75  cents. 

BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS.     Price  75  cents. 

MISCELLANEOUS  ESSAYS.    Price  75  cents. 

THE  CAESARS.    Price  75  cents. 

LIFE  AND  MANNERS.    Price  75  cents. 

LITERARY  REMINISCENCES.     2  Vols.     Price  $1.50. 

NARRATIVE  AND  MISCELLANEOUS  PAPERS.   2  Vols. 
Price  $150. 

GRACE  GREENWOOD'S  WRITINGS. 

GREENWOOD  LEAVES.    1st  &  2d  Series.    $1.25  each. 
POETICAL  WORKS.     With  fine  Portrait.    Price  75  cents. 
HISTORY    OF    MY    PETS.     With   six    fine   Engravings. 

Seal  let  cloth.    Price  50  emits. 

RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  CHILDHOOD.     With  six  fine 

Engravings.    Scarlet  cloth.    Piice  50  cents. 

EDWIN   P.  WHIPPLE'S  WRITINGS. 
ESSAYS  AND  REVIEWS.     2  Vols.     Price  $2.00. 

LECTURES    ON   SUBJECTS   CONNECTED  WITH   LIT- 
EKATUKt;  AND   LIFE.     Pi  ice  63  cents. 

WASHINGTON  AND  THE  REVOLUTION.    Price  20  cts. 


BY  TICKNOR,  REED,  AND  FIELDS. 


HENRY  GILES'S  WRITINGS. 

LECTURES,  ESSAYS,  AND  MISCELLANEOUS  WKI- 
TKNGS.  a  Vols.  Price  $1.50. 

CHRISTIAN  THOUGHT  ON  LIFE.    Price  75  cents. 

WILLIAM    MOTHERWELL'S  WRITINGS. 
POEMS,  NARRATIVE  AND  LYRICAL.     New  edition. 
POSTHUMOUS  POEMS.   Boards.   Price  50  cents. 
MINSTRELSY,  ANC.  AND  MOD.    2  Vols.  Boards.  $1.50. 

JAMES   RUSSELL  LOWELL'S  WRITINGS. 

COMPLETE  POETICAL  WORKS.   Revised,  with  Additions. 

la  two  volumes,  llimo.    Boards.    Price  $1.50. 

SIR  LAUNFAL.    New  Edition.    Price  25  cents. 
MISCELLANEOUS. 

LYDIA  :  A  WOMAN'S  BOOK.    By  Mrs.  NEWTON  CKOSLAND. 

ICmo.     Paper,  50  cents.    Cloth,  75  cents. 

ENGLISH  TALES  AND  SKETCHES.     By  Mrs.  CKOSLAND. 

1  vol.     Cloth.     Piice  $1.00. 

JOSEPH    T.    BUCKINGHAM'S    PERSONAL    MEMOIRS 

A.\D    RECOLLECTIONS   OF   EDITORIAL  LIFE.     With   Portrait. 

2  vols.    Itimo.     Price  $1.50. 

VILLAGE  LIFE  IN  EGYPT.    By  the  Author  of  'Adven- 

lures  iii  the  Lybian  Desert.'    2  vols.  Ibuio.     Price  $1.25. 

PALISSY  THE  POTTER.    By  the  Author  of  <  How  to  make 

Home  Unhealthy.'    2  vols.   Itjino.     Price  $.150. 

WILLIAM  MOUNTFORD.  THORPE:  A  QUIET  ENGLISH 
Tows,  AND  HUMAN  LIFE  THEREIN.  16mo.  Price  $1.00. 

JAMES  FREEMAN  CLARKE.    ELEVEN  WEEKS  IN  EUROPE, 

AND  WHAT  MAY  BE  SEEN  IN  THAT  TIME.      JlijllO.     Price  $1.00. 

CAPT.  MAYNE  REID.  THE  DESERT  HOME,  OR  THE  ADVEN- 
TCKFS  OF  A  LOST  FAMILY  IN  THB  WILDERNESS.  12  Engravings.  16ino. 
Price  81.00. 

WILLIAM  WORDSWORTH'S  BIOGRAPHY.     By  Dr.  C. 

WOHDSWORTH.    2  Vols.    Price  $2  50. 

ROBERT  BROWNING.    POETICAL  WORKS.   2  Vols.   $2.00. 

BARRY  CORNWALL  ENGLISH  SONGS  AND  OTHER  SMALL 
POEMS.  Enlarged  Edition.  Price  $1.00. 

BARRY  CORNWALL.  ESSAYS  AND  TALES  IN  PROSE.  2  Vols. 
Price  $1.50. 

RICHARD  MONCKTON  MILNES.  POEMS  OF  MANY  YEARS. 
Boards.  Price  75  cents. 


BOOKS  PUBLISHED  BY  TICKNOR,  REED,  AND  FIELDS. 


CHARLES  MACKAY'S  POEMS.  IVol.   Cloth.   Price  $1.00. 

PHILIP  JAMES  BAILEY.    THE  ANGEL  WORLD  AND  OTHER 
POEMS.     I'rice  50  cents. 

GOETHE'S  WILHELM  MEISTER.     Translated  by  CAR- 

LYLE.    2  Vols.     Price  $2  50. 
GOETHE'S  FAUST.     Price  75  cents. 
CHARLES  SPR AGUE.   POETICAL  AND  PROSE  WRITINGS.  With 

fine  Portrait.    Hoards.    Price  75  cents. 

CHARLES    SUMNER.     ORATIONS  AND  SPEECHES.      2  Vols. 

Price  $2.50. 

GEORGE   S    HILLARD.     THE  DANGERS  AND  DUTIES  OF  THE 
MERCANTILE  PROFESSION.    Price  25  cents. 

HORACE   MANN.     A  FEW  THOUGHTS  FOR  A  YOUNG  MAN. 

Price  25  cents. 

F.  W   P.  GREENWOOD.    SERMONS  OF  CONSOLATION.     $1.00. 

HENRY  ALFORD'S  POEMS.     Just  out. 

HENRY  T..  TUCKERMAN.   POEMS.  Cloth.   Price  75  cents. 

BAYARD  TAYLOR.     POEMS.    Cloth.    Price  63  cents. 

R.  H.  STODDARD.    POEMS.    Cloth.    Price  63  cents. 

JOHN  G.  SAXE.    POEMS.     With  Portrait.     Boards,  63  cents. 

Cloth,  75  cents. 

REJECTED  ADDRESSES.     By  HORACE  and  JAMES  SMITH. 

Boards,  Price  50  cents.   Cloth,  63  cents. 

WARRENIANA.     By  the  Authors  of  Rejected  Addresses. 

Price  63  cents. 

MEMORY  AND  HOPE.     A  BOOK  OF  POEMS,  REFERRING  TO 
CHILDHOOD.    Cloth.    Price  $2.00. 

ALDERBROOK.   By  FANNY  FORESTER.    2  Vols.   Price  $1.75. 
HEROINES  OF  THE  MISSIONARY  ENTERPRISE.  75  cts. 

MEMOIR   OF  THE   BUCKM1NSTERS,   FATHER  AND  SON. 
By  Mrs.  LEE.    Price  $1.25. 

THE  SOLITARY  OF  JUAN  FERNANDEZ.  By  the  Author 

of  Picciola.     Price  50  cents. 

THE  BOSTON  BOOK.    Price  $1.25. 
ANGEL-VOICES.    Price  38  cents. 

FLORENCE,  AND  OTHER  TALES.     By  Mrs.  LEE.  50  cts 
SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY.    Price  75  cents. 

BACH     OP    THB    ABOVE     POEMS    AND     PROSE  WRITING?,    MAT   EH   HAD    IN 
VARIOUS   STYLES   OF  HANDSOME  BINDING. 


XV 

t-r      Ze^-!^i* 

/ 


/ 

TUB 


KATHAYAN  SLAYE, 


OTHER    PAPERS 


CONNECTED  WITH    MISSIONARY   LIFE. 


EMILY    JUDSON. 


BOSTON: 
TICKNOR,    REED,   AND   FIELDS. 


MDCCCLI1I. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1853,  by 

EMILY    JUDSON, 
in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Mnssachuselts. 


THCRSTOX,   TORRV,  .AND    KMERSOX,    1*111  STKItK. 


TO     THE 

REV.  FRANCIS  WAYLAND,  D.  D., 

WHOSE  ETHICS  MINGLED  LARGELY  IN  THE  DISCIPLINARY 
INFLUENCES  OF  MY  SCHOOL-DAYS  ;  WHOSE  INSPIRITING, 
LIFE-ENNOBLING  THEOLOGY  CHEERED  ME  THROUGH  SOME 
TANGLED  TASSES,  IN  MATURER  YEARS  J  AND  TO  WHOSE 
RECENT  FRIENDSHIP  I  AM  INDEBTED  FOR  MANY  A  SILVER 
BORDER  TO  THE  CLOUDS  OF  SORROW, 

THIS     LITTLE     VOLUME 
IS  RESPECTFULLY  AND  MOST  GRATEFULLY  INSCRIBED, 

BY 
EMILY    JUDSON. 


CONTENTS 

THE  KATHAYAN  SLAVE           ....  1 

MEE  SHWAY-EE    .....  25 

MADNESS  OF  THE  MISSIONARY   KNTERPRISE    .             .  28 

SONG  OF  MAULMAIN           ....  56 
A  LEGEND  OF  THE  MAIZEEN    .             .            .             .58 

THE  JUNGLE  BOY            ....  86 
TRIUUTE  TO  REV.  DANIEL  HASCALL     .             .             .93 

THE  MOST  EFFICIENT  MISSIONARIES            .            .  9fi 

MISAPPREHENSION         .....  10& 

THE  WAN  REAPERS          ....  108 

THE  HEATHEN  BETTER  THAN  CHRISTIANS                   .  110' 

MINT,  ANISE  AND  CUMMIN              .             .            .  123 

THE  MISSIONARY          .....  133 

BODAU-PARAH        .             .            .             .            .  134 

DEATH  OF  BOARDMAN               ....  151 

WAYSIDE  PREAC-HINO  156 


THE   KATHAYAN   SLAVE. 


AT  the  commencement  of  the  English  and 
Burmese  war  of  1824,  all  the  Christians  (called 
*  hat-wearers,'  in  contradistinction  from  the  tur- 
baned  heads  of  the  Orientals)  residing  at  Ava, 
were  thrown  unceremoniously  into  the  Death- 
prison.  Among  them  were  both  Protestant  and 
Roman  Catholic  missionaries ;  some  few  repu- 
table European  traders ;  and  criminals  shad- 
owed from  the  laws  of  Christendom  '  under  the 
sole  of  the  golden  foot.'  These,  Americans, 
English,  Spanish,  Portuguese,  Greek  and  Ar- 
menian, were  all  huddled  together  in  one  prison, 
with  villains  of  every  grade, — the  thief,  the 
assassin,  the  bandit,  or  all  three  in  one ;  con- 
stituting, in  connection  with  countless  other 
crimes,  a  blacker  character  than  the  inhabitant  of 
a  civilized  land  can  picture.  Sometimes  stript 
1 


4  THE    KATHAYAN    SLAVE. 

of  their  clothing,  sometimes  nearly  starved,  load- 
ed with  heavy  irons,  thrust  into  a  hot,  filthy, 
noisome  apartment,  with  criminals  for  compan- 
ions and  criminals  for  guards,  compelled  to  see 
the  daily  torture,  to  hear  the  shriek  of  anguish 
from  writhing  victims,  with  death,  death  in  some 
terribly  detestable  form,  always  before  them,  a 
severer  state  of  suffering  can  scarcely  be  im- 
agined. 

The  Burmese  had  never  been  known  to  spare 
the  lives  of  their  war-captives ;  and  though  the 
little  band  of  foreigners  could  scarcely  be  called 
prisoners  of  war,  yet  this  well-known  custom, 
together  with  their  having  been  thrust  into  the 
death-prison,  from  which  there  was  no  escape, 
except  by  a  pardon  from  the  king,  cut  off  nearly 
every  reasonable  hope  of  rescue.  But,  (quite  a 
new  thing  in  the  annals  of  Burmese  history,) 
although  some  died  from  the  intensity  of  their 
sufferings,  no  foreigner  was  wantonly  put  to 
death.  Of  those  who  were  claimed  by  the  En- 
glish at  the  close  of  the  war,  some  one  or  two 
are  yet  living,  with  anklets  and  bracelets  which 
they  will  carry  to  the  grave  with  them,  wrought 
in  their  flesh  by  the  heavy  iron.  It  may  well 


THE    KATHAYAN    SLAVE.  3 

be  imagined,  that  these  men  might  unfold  to  us 
scenes  of  horror,  incidents  daily  occurring  under 
their  own  shuddering  gaj?e>  in  comparison  with 
which  the  hair-elevating  legends  of  Ann  Radcliff 
would  become  simple  fairy  tales. 

The  death-prison  at  Ava  was  at  that  time  a 
single  large  room,  built  of  rough  boards,  without 
either  window  or  door,  and  with  but  a  thinly 
thatched  roof  to  protect  the  wretched  inmates 
from  the  blaze  of  a  tropical  sun.  It  was  entered 
by  slipping  aside  a  single  board,  which  consti- 
tuted a  sort  of  sliding-door.  Around  the  prison, 
inside  the  yard,  were  ranged  the  huts  of  the 
under-jailers,  or  Children  of  the  Prison,  and 
outside  of  the  yard,  close  at  handr  that  of  the 
head-jailer.  These  jailers  must  necessarily  be 
condemned  criminals,  with  a  ring,  the  sign  of 
outlawry,  traced  in  the  skin  of  the  cheek,  and 
the  name  of  their  crime  engraved  in  the  same 
manner  upon  the  breast.  The  head-jailer  was 
a  tall,  bony  man,  with  sinews  of  iron  ;  wearing, 
when  speaking,  a  malicious  smirk,  and  given  at 
times  to  a  most  revolting  kind  of  jocoseness. 
When  silent  and  quiet,  he  had  a  jaded,  care- 
worn look ;.  but  it  was  at  the  torture  that  he  was 


4  THE    KATHAYAN    SLAVE. 

in  his  proper  element.  Then  his  face  lighted 
up  —  became  glad,  furious,  demoniac.  His  small 
black  eyes  glittered  like  those  of  a  serpent ; 
his  thin  lips  rolled  back,  displaying  his  toothless 
gums  in  front,  with  a  long,  protruding  tusk  on 
either  side,  stained  black  as  ebony ;  his  hollow, 
ringed  cheeks  seemed  to  contract  more  and  more, 
and  his  breast  heaved  with  convulsive  delight 
beneath  the  fearful  word — MAN-KILLER.  The 
prisoners  called  him  father,  when  he  was  present 
to  enforce  this  expression  of  affectionate  famili- 
arity ;  but  among  themselves  he  was  irreverently 
christened  the  Tiger-cat. 

One  of  the  most  active  of  the  Children  of  the 
Prison,  was  a  short,  broad-faced  man,  labelled 
THIEF,  who,  as  well  as  the  Tiger,  had  a  peculiar 
talent  in  the  way  of  torturing ;  and  so  fond  was 
he  of  the  use  of  the  whip,  that  he  often  missed 
his  count,  and  zealously  exceeded  the  number 
of  lashes  ordered  by  the  city  governor.  The 
wife  of  this  man  was  a  most  odious  creature, 
filthy,  bold,  impudent,  cruel,  and  like  her  hus- 
band, delighting  in  torture.  Her  face  was  not 
only  deeply  pitted  with  small-pox,  but  so  de- 
formed with  leprosy,  that  the  white  cartilage  of 


THE    KATI1AYAN    SLAVE.  5 

the  nose  was  laid  entirely  bare ;  from  her  large 
mouth  shone  rows  of  irregular  teeth,  black  as 
ink  ;  her  hair,  which  was  left  entirely  to  the  care 
of  nature,  was  matted  in  large  black  masses 
about  her  head ;  and  her  manner,  under  all  this 
hideous  ugliness,  was  insolent  and  vicious. 
They  had  two  children  —  little  vipers,  well  load- 
ed with  venom ;  and  by  their  vexatious  mode  of 
annoyance,  trying  the  tempers  of  the  prisoners 
more  than  was  in  the  power  of  the  mature  tor- 
turers. 

As  will  readily  be  perceived,  the  security  of 
this  prison  was  not  in  the  strength  of  the  struc- 
ture, but  in  the  heavy  manacles,  and  the  living 
wall.  The  lives  of  the  jailers  depended  entirely 
on  their  fidelity ;  and  fidelity  involved  strict 
obedience  to  orders,  however  ferocious.  As  for 
themselves,  they  could  not  escape ;  they  had 
nowhere  to  go ;  certain  death  awaited  them 
everywhere,  for  they  bore  on  cheek  and  breast 
the  ineffaceable  proof  of  their  outlawry.  Their 
only  safety  was  at  their  post ;  and  there  was  no 
safety  there  in  humanity,  even  if  it  were  possible 
for  such  degraded  creatures  to  have  a  spark  of 
humanity  left.  So  inclination  united  with  in- 


6  THE    KATHAYAN    SLAVE. 

terest  to  make  them  what  they  really  were  — 
demons. 

The  arrival  of  a  new  prisoner  was  an  incident 
calculated  to  excite  but  little  interest  in  the 
hat-wearers,  provided  he  came  in  turban  and 
waistcloth.  But  one  morning,  there  was  brought 
in  a  young  man,  speaking  the  Burmese  broken- 
ly, and  with  the  soft  accent  of  the  north,  who 
at  once  attracted  universal  attention.  He  was 
tall  and  erect,  with  a  mild,  handsome  face, 
bearing  the  impress  of  inexpressible  suffering  ; 
a  complexion  slightly  tinted  with  the  rich  brown 
of  the  east ;  a  fine,  manly  carriage,  and  a  man- 
ner which,  even  there,  was  both  graceful  and 
dignified. 

'Who  is  he?'  was  the  interpretation  of  the 
inquiring  glances  exchanged  among  those  who 
had  no  liberty  to  speak ;  and  then  eye  asked  of 
eye,  '  What  can  he  have  done  ?  —  he,  so  gentle, 
so  mild,  so  manly,  that  even  these  wretches, 
who  scarcely  know  the  name  of  pity  and  respect, 
seem  to  feel  both  for  him?'  There  was,  in 
truth,  something  in  the  countenance  of  the  new 
prisoner  which,  without  asking  for  sympathy, 
involuntarily  enforced  it.  It  was  not  amiability, 


THE    KATHAYAN    SLAVE. 


though  his  dark,  soft,  beautiful  eye  was  full  of  a 
noble  sweetness  ;  it  was  not  resignation;  it  was 
not  apathy;  it  was  hopelessness-,  deep,  utter, 
immovable,  suffering  hopelessness.  Very  young, 
and  apparently  not  ambitious  or  revengeful, 
what  crime  could  this  interesting  stranger  have 
committed  to  draw  down  '  the  golden  foot'  with 
such  crushing  weight  upon  his  devoted  head? 
He  seemed  utterly  friendless,  and  without  even 
the  means  of  obtaining  food;  for,  as  the  day 
advanced,  no  one  came  to  see  him;  and  the 
officer  who  brought  him  had  left  no  directions. 
He  did  not,  however,  suffer  from  this  neglect, 
for  Madam  Thief,  (most  wonderful  to  relate!) 
actually  shared  so  deeply  in  the  universal  sym- 
pathy, as  to  bring  him  a  small  quantity  of  boiled 
rice  and  water. 

Toward  evening,  the  Woon-bai,  a  governor, 
or  rather  Mayor  of  the  city,  entered  the  prison, 
his  bold,  lion-like  face  as  open  and  unconcerned 
as  ever,  but  with  something  of  unusual  bustling 
in  his  manner. 

'  Where  is  he  ? '  he  cried  sternly  ;  '  where  is 
he?  this  son  of  Kathay?  this  dog,  villain, 


8  THE    KATHAYAN    SLAVE. 

traitor!  where  is  he?  Aha!  only  one  pair  of 
irons  ?  Put  on  five !  do  you  hear  ?  five  !' 

The  Woon-bai  remained  till  his  orders  were 
executed,  and  the  poor  Kathayan  was  loaded 
with  five  pairs  of  fetters ;  and  then  he  went  out, 
frowning  on  one  and  smiling  on  another ;  while 
the  Children  of  the  Prison  watched  his  coun- 
tenance and  manner,  as  significant  of  what  was 
expected  of  them.  The  prisoners  looked  at 
each  other,  and  shook  their  heads  in  commis- 
eration. 

The  next  day  the  feet  of  the  young  Kathayan, 
in  obedience  to  some  new  order,  were  placed 
in  the  stocks,  which  raised  them  about  eighteen 
inches  from  the  ground ;  and  the  five  pairs  of 
fetters  were  all  disposed  on  the  outer  side  of  the 
plank,  so  that  their  entire  weight  fell  upon  the 
ankles.  The  position  was  so  painful  that  each 
prisoner,  some  from  memory,  some  from  sym- 
pathetic apprehension,  shared  in  the  pain  when 
he  looked  at  the  sufferer. 

During  this  day,  one  of  the  missionaries,  who 
had  been  honored  with  an  invitation,  which  it 
was  never  prudent  to  refuse,  to  the  hut  of  the 
Thief,  learned  something  of  the  history  of  the 


THE    KATHAYAN    SLAVE.  9 

young  man,  and  his  crime.  His  home,  it  was 
told  him,  was  among  the  rich  hills  of  Kathay, 
as  they  range  far  northward,  where  the  tropic 
sun  loses  the  intense  fierceness  of  his  blaze,  and 
makes  the  atmosphere  soft  and  luxurious,  as 
though  it  were  mellowing  beneath  the  same 
amber  sky  which  ripens  the  fruits,  and  gives 
their  glow  to  the  flowers.  What  had  been  his 
rank  in  his  own  land,  the  jailer's  wife  did  not 
know.  Perhaps  he  had  been  a  prince,  chief  of 
the  brave  band  conquered  by  the  superior  force 
of  the  Burmans ;  or  a  hunter  among  the  spicy 
groves  and  deep-wooded  jungles,  lithe  as  the 
tiger  which  he  pursued  from  lair  to  lair,  and 
free  as  the  flame-winged  bird  of  the  sun  that 
circled  above  him  ;  or  perhaps  his  destiny  had 
been  a  humbler  one,  and  he  had  but  followed  his 
goats  as  they  bounded  fearlessly  from  ledge  to 
ledge,  and  plucked  for  food  the  herbs  upon  his 
native  hills.  He  had  been  brought  away  by  a 
marauding  party,  and  presented  as  a  slave  to 
the  brother  of  the  queen.  This  Men-thah-gyee, 
the  Great  Prince,  as  he  was  called,  by  way  of 
pre-eminence,  had  risen,  through  the  influence 
of  his  sister,  from  the  humble  condition  of  a 


10  THE    KATHAYAN    SLAVE. 

fishmonger,  to  be  the  Richelieu  of  the  nation. 
Unpopular  from  his  mean  origin,  and  still  more 
unpopular  from  the  acts  of  brutality  to  which 
the  intoxication  of  power  had  given  rise,  the 
sympathy  excited  by  the  poor  Kathayan  in  the 
breasts  of  these  wretches  may  easily  be  ac- 
counted for.  It  was  not  pity  or  mercy,  but 
hatred.  Anywhere  else,  the  sufferer's  sad,  hand- 
some face,  and  mild,  uncomplaining  manner, 
would  have  enlisted  sympathy ;  but  here,  they 
would  scarcely  have  seen  the  sadness,  or  beauty, 
or  mildness,  except  through  the  medium  of  a 
passion  congenial  to  their  own  natures. 

Among  the  other  slaves  of  Men-thah-gyee, 
was  a  young  Kathay  girl  of  singular  beauty. 
She  \vas,  so  said  Madam  the  Thief,  a  bundle 
of  roses,  set  round  with  the  fragrant  blossoms 
of  the  champac  tree ;  her  breath  was  like  that 
of  the  breezes  when  they  come  up  from  their 
dalliance  with  the  spicy  daughters  of  the  islands 
of  the  south;  her  voice  had  caught  its  rich 
cadence  from  the  musical  gush  of  the  silver 
fountain,  which  wakes  among  the  green  of  her 
native  hills ;  her  hair  had  been  braided  from  the 
glossy  raven  plumage  of  the  royal  edolius  ;  her 


THE    KATHAYAN    SLAVE.  11 

eyes  were  twin  stars  looking  out  from  cool 
springs,  all  fringed  with  the  long,  tremulous 
reeds  of  the  jungle  ;  and  her  step  was  as  the 
free,  graceful  bound  of  the  wild  antelope.  On 
the  subject  of  her  grace,  her  beauty,  and  her 
wondrous  daring,  the  jailer's  wife  could  not  be 
sufficiently  eloquent.  And  so  this  poor,  proud, 
simple-souled  maiden,  this  diamond  from  the 
rich  hills  of  Kathay,  destined  to  glitter  for  an 
hour  or  two  on  a  prince's  bosom,  unsubdued 
even  in  her  desolation,  had  dared  to  bestow  her 
affections  with  the  uncalculating  lavishness  of 
conscious  heart-freedom.  And  the  poor  wretch, 
lying  upon  his  back  in  the  death-prison,  his  feet 
fast  in  the  stocks  and  swelling  and  purpling 
beneath  the  heavy  irons,  had  participated  in 
her  crime ;  had  lured  her  on,  by  tender  glances 
and  by  loving  words,  inexpressibly  sweet  in  their 
mutual  bondage,  to  irretrievable  destruction. 
What  fears,  what  hopes  winged  by  fears,  what 
tremulous  joys,  still  hedged  in  by  that  same 
crowd  of  fears,  what  despondency,  what  revul- 
sions of  impotent  anger  and  daring,  what 
weeping,  what  despair  must  have  been  theirs ! 
Their  tremblings  and  rejoicings,  their  mad  pro- 


12  THE    KATHAYAN    SLAVE. 

jects,  growing  each  day  wilder  and  more  dan- 
gerous —  since  madness  alone  could  have  given 
rise  to  anything  like  hope  —  are  things  left  to 
imagination ;  for  there  was  none  to  relate  the 
heart-history  of  the  two  slaves  of  Men-thah- 
gyee.  Yet  there  were  some  hints  of  a  first 
accidental  meeting  under  the  shadow  of  the 
mango  and  tamarind  trees,  where  the  sun  lighted 
up,  by  irregular  gushes,  the  waters  of  the  little 
lake  in  the  centre  of  the  garden,  and  the  rustle 
of  leaves  seemed  sufficient  to  drown  the  accents 
of  their  native  tongues.  So  they  looked,  spoke, 
their  hearts  bounded,  paused,  trembled  with 
soft  home-memories  —  they  whispered  on,  and 
they  were  lost.  Poor  slaves ! 

Then  at  evening,  when  the  dark-browed 
maidens  of  the  golden  city,  gathered,  with  their 
earthen  vessels  about  the  well,  there,  shaded  by 
the  thick  clumps  of  bamboo,  with  the  free  sky 
overhead,  the  green  earth  beneath,  and  the 
songs  and  laughter  of  the  merry  girls  ringing  in 
their  ears,  so  like  their  own  home,  the  home 
which  they  had  lost  forever  —  oh,  what  a  rare, 
sweet,  dangerous  meeting-place  for  those  who 
should  not,  and  yet  must  be  lovers ! 


THE    KATHAYAN    SLAVE. 


13 


Finally  came  a  day  fraught  with  illimitable 
consequences ;  the  day  when  the  young  slave, 
not  yet  admitted  to  the  royal  harem,  should 
become  more  than  ever  the  property  of  her 
master.  And  now  deeper  grew  their  agony, 
more  uncontrollable  their  madness,  wilder  and 
more  daring  their  hopes,  with  every  passing 
moment.  Not  a  man  in  Ava,  but  would  have 
told  them  that  escape  was  impossible  ;  and  yet, 
goaded  on  by  love  and  despair,  they  attempted 
the  impossibility.  They  had  countrymen  in 
the  city,  and,  under  cover  of  night,  they  fled  to 
them.  Immediately  the  minister  sent  out  his 
myrmidons  —  they  were  tracked,  captured,  and 
brought  back  to  the  palace. 

*  And  what  became  of  the  poor  girl?'  inquir- 
ed the  missionary  with  much  interest. 

The  woman  shuddered,  and  beneath  her  scars 
and  the  swarthiness  of  her  skin,  she  became 
deadly  pale. 

'  There  is  a  cellar,  Tsayah,'  at  last  she  whis- 
pered, still  shuddering,  '  a  deep  cellar,  that  no 
one  has  seen,  but  horrible  cries  come  from  it 
sometimes,  and  two  nights  ago,  for  three  hours, 
three  long  hours  —  such  shrieks  !  Amai-ai ! 


14  THE    KATHAYAN    SLAVE. 

what  shrieks !  And  they  say  that  he  was  there, 
Tsayah,  and  saw  and  heard  it  all.  That  is  the 
reason  that  his  eyes  are  blinded  and  his  ears 
benumbed.  A  great  many  go  into  that  cellar, 
but  none  ever  come  out  again  —  none  but  the 
doomed  like  him.  It  is  —  it  is  like  the  West 
Prison,''  she  added,  sinking  her  voice  still  lower, 
and  casting  an  eager  alarmed  look  about  her. 
The  missionary  too  shuddered,  as  much  at  the 
mention  of  this  prison,  as  at  the  recital  of  the 
woman ;  for  it  shut  within  its  walls  deep  mys- 
teries, which  even  his  jailers,  accustomed  as  they 
were  to  torture  and  death,  shrank  from  babbling 
of. 

The  next  day  a  cord  was  passed  around  the 
wrists  of  the  young  Kathayan,  his  arms  jerked 
up  into  a  position  perpendicular  with  his  pros- 
trate body,  and  the  end  of  the  cord  fastened  to 
a  beam  overhead.  Still,  though  faint  from  the 
lack  of  food,  parched  with  thirst,  and  racked 
with  pain,  for  his  feet  were  swollen  and  livid, 
not  a  murmur  of  complaint  escaped  his  lips. 
And  yet  this  patient  endurance  seemed  scarcely 
the  result  of  fortitude  or  heroism ;  an  observer 
would  have  said  that  the  inner  suffering  was  so 


THE    KATHAYAN    SLAVE.  15 

great  as  to  render  that  of  the  mere  physical 
frame  unheeded.  There  was  the  same  expression 
of  hopelessness,  the  same  unvarying  wretched- 
ness, too  deep,  too  real,  to  think  of  giving  itself 
utterance  on  the  face  as  at  his  first  entrance  into 
the  prison ;  and  except  that  he  now  and  then 
fixed  on  one  of  the  hopeless  beings  who  regarded 
him  in  silent  pity,  a  mournful,  half-beseeching, 
half-vacant  stare,  this  was  all. 

That  day  passed  away  as  others  had  done ; 
then  came  another  night  of  dreams,  in  which 
loved  ones  gathered  around  the  hearth-stone  of 
a  dear,  distant  home  ;  dreams  broken  by  the 
clanking  of  chains,  and  the  groans  of  the  suffer- 
ing ;  and  then  morning  broke.  There  still  hung 
the  poor  Kathayan ;  his  face  slightly  distorted 
with  the  agony  he  was  suffering,  his  lips  dry  and 
parched,  his  cheek  pallid  and  sunken,  and  his 
eyes  wild  and  glaring.  His  breast  swelled  and 
heaved,  and  now  and  then  a  sob-like  sigh  burst 
forth  involuntarily.  When  the  Tiger  entered,  the 
eye  of  the  young  man  immediately  fastened 
on  him,  and  a  shiver  passed  through  his  frame. 
The  old  murderer  went  his  usual  rounds  with 
great  nonchalance ;  gave  an  order  here,  a  blow 


16  THE    KATHAYAN    SLAVE. 

there,  and  cracked  a  malicious  joke  with  a  third ; 
smiling  all  the  time  that  dark,  sinister  smile, 
which  made  him  so  much  more  hideous  in  the 
midst  of  his  wickedness.  At  last  he  approached 
the  Kathayan,  who,  with  a  convulsive  move- 
ment, half  raised  himself  from  the  ground  at  his 
touch,  and  seemed  to  contract  like  a  shrivelled 
leaf. 

'  Right !  right,  my  son ! '  said  the  old  man, 
chuckling.  '  You  are  expert  at  helping  your- 
self, to  be  sure ;  but  then  you  need  assistance. 
So  —  so  —  so!'  and  giving  the  cord  three  suc- 
cessive jerks,  he  succeeded,  by  means  of  his  im- 
mense strength,  in  raising  the  Kathayan  so  that 
but  the  back  of  his  head,  as  it  fell  downward, 
could  touch  the  floor.  There  was  a  quick,  short 
crackling  of  joints,  and  a  groan  escaped  the  pris- 
oner. Another  groan  followed,  and  then  another 
—  and  another  —  a  heaving  of  the  chest,  a  con- 
vulsive shiver,  and  for  a  moment  he  seemed  lost. 
Human  hearts  glanced  heavenward.  '  God 
grant  it !  Father  of  mercies,  spare  him  farther 
agony  ! '  It  could  not  be.  Gaspingly  came  the 
lost  breath  back  again,  quiveringly  the  soft  eyes 


THE    KATHAYAN    SLAVE.  17 

unclosed ;  and  the  young  Kathayan  captive  was 
fully  awake  to  his  misery. 

'  I  cannot  die  so  —  I  cannot — so  slow — so 
slow  —  so  slow ! '  Hunger  gnawed,  thirst  burned, 
fever  revelled  in  his  veins;  the  cord  upon  his 
wrists  cut  to  the  bone  ;  corruption  had  already 
commenced  upon  his  swollen,  livid  feet ;  the 
most  frightful,  torturing  pains  distorted  his  body, 
and  wrung  from  him,  groans  and  murmurings  so 
pitiful,  so  harrowing,  so  full  of  anguish,  that  the 
unwilling  listeners  could  only  turn  away  their 
heads,  or  lift  their  eyes  to  each  other's  faces  in 
mute  horror.  Not  a  word  was  exchanged  among 
them  — not  a  lip  had  power  to  give  it  utterance. 

'  I  cannot  die  so  !  I  cannot  die  so !  I  cannot 
die  so ! '  came  the  words,  at  first  moaningly, 
and  then  prolonged  to  a  terrible  howl.  And  so 
passed  another  day,  and  another  night,  and  still 
the  wretch  lived  on. 

In  the  midst  of  their  filth  and  smothering 
heat,  the  prisoners  awoke  from  such  troubled 
sleep  as  they  could  gain  amid  these  horrors ;  and 
those  who  could,  pressed  their  feverish  lips  and 
foreheads  to  the  crevices  between  the  boards,  to 
court  the  morning  breezes.  A  lady,  with  a  white 
2 


18  THE    KATHAYAN    SLAVE. 

brow,  and  a  lip  whose  delicate  vermilion  had 
not  ripened  beneath  the  skies  of  India,  came 
with  food  to  her  husband.  By  constant  impor- 
tunity had  the  beautiful  ministering  angel  gain- 
ed this  holy  privilege.  Her  coming  was  like  a 
gleam  of  sunlight  —  a  sudden  unfolding  of  the 
beauties  of  this  bright  earth  to  one  born  blind. 
She  performed  her  usual  tender  ministry  and 
departed. 

Day  advanced  to  its  meridian ;  and  once  more 
but  now  hesitatingly,  and  as  though  he  dreaded 
his  task,  the  Tiger  drew  near  the  young  Kathay- 
an.  But  the  sufferer  did  not  shrink  from  him 
as  before. 

1  Quick ! '  he  exclaimed,  greedily.  '  Quick ! 
give  me  one  hand  and  the  cord, — just  a  mo- 
ment, a  single  moment,  —  this  hand  with  the 
cord  in  it, —  and  you  shall  be  rid  of  me  for- 
ever ! ' 

The  Tiger  burst  into  a  hideous  laugh,  his 
habitual  cruelty  returning  at  the  sound  of  his 
victim's  voice. 

'  Rid  of  you !  not  so  fast,  my  son ;  not  so 
fast !  You  will  hold  out  a  day  or  two  yet.  Let 
me  see! '  passing  his  hand  along  the  emaciated, 


THE    KATHAYAX    SLAVE.  19 

feverish  body  of  the  sufferer.  'Oh,  yes;  two 
days  at  least,  perhaps  three,  and  it  may  be 
longer.  Patience,  my  son ;  you  are  frightfully 
strong  !  Now  these  joints  —  why  any  other 
man's  would  have  separated  long  ago  ;  but  here 
they  stay  just  as  firmly  — '  As  he  spoke  with  a 
calculating  sort  of  deliberation,  the  monster 
gave  the  cord  a  sudden  jerk,  then  another,  and 
a  third,  raising  his  victim  still  farther  from  the 
floor,  and  then  adjusting  it  about  the  beam, 
walked  unconcernedly  away.  For  several  min- 
utes the  prison  rung  with  the  most  fearful 
cries.  Shriek  followed  shriek,  agonized,  furious, 
with  scarcely  a  breath  between ;  bello wings, 
howlings,  gnashings  of  the  teeth,  sharp,  piercing 
screams,  yells  of  savage  defiance  ;  cry  upon  cry, 
cry  upon  cry,  with  wild  superhuman  strength, 
they  came  ;  while  the  prisoners  shrank  in  awe 
and  terror,  trembling  in  their  chains.  But  this 
violence  soon  exhasted  itself,  and  the  paroxysm 
passed,  giving  place  to  low,  sad  moans,  irresist- 
ibly pitiful.  This  was  a  day  never  to  be  for- 
gotten, by  the  hundred  wretched  creatures 
congregated  in  the  gloomy  death-prison.  The 
sun  had  never  seemed  to  move  so  slowly  before. 


20  THE    KATHAYAN    SLAVE. 

Its  setting  was  gladly  welcomed,  but  yet  the 
night  brought  no  change.  Those  piteous  moans, 
those  agonized  groanings  seemed  no  nearer  an 
end  than  ever. 

Another  day  passed  —  another  night  —  again 
day  dawned  and  drew  near  its  close ;  and  yet 
the  poor  Kathayan  clung  to  life  with  frightful 
tenacity.  One  of  the  missionaries,  as  a  peculiar 
favor,  had  been  allowed  to  creep  into  an  old 
shed,  opposite  the  door  of  the  prison  ;  and  here 
he  was  joined  by  a  companion,  just  as  the  day 
was  declining  towards  evening. 

'  Oh,  will  it  ever  end  ? '  whispered  one. 

The  other  only  bowed  his  head  between  his 
hands  — '  Terrible  !  terrible  ! ' 

*  There  surely  can  be  nothing  worse   in  the 
West  Prison.' 

*  Can  there  be  anything  worse  —  can  there  be 
more  finished  demons  in  the  pit  ? ' 

Suddenly,  while  this  broken  conversation  was 
conducted  in  a  low  tone,  so  as  not  to  draw  upon 
the  speakers  the  indignation  of  their  jailers, 
they  were  struck  by  the  singular  stillness  of  the 
prison.  The  clanking  of  chains,  the  murmur 
and  the  groan,  the  heavy  breathing  of  congro- 


THE    KATHAYAN    SLAVE. 


21 


gated  living  beings,  the  bustle  occasioned  by 
the  continuous  uneasy  movement  of  the  restless 
sufferers,  the  ceaseless  tread  of  the  Children  of 
the  Prison,  and  their  bullying  voices,  all  were 
hushed. 

'  "What  is  it  ? '  in  a  lower  whisper  than  ever, 
and  a  shaking  of  the  head,  and  holding  their 
own  chains  to  prevent  their  rattle,  and  looks  full 
of  wonder,  was  all  that  passed  between  the  two 
listeners.  Their  amazement  was  interrupted  by 
a  dull,  heavy  sound,  as  though  a  bag  of  dried 
bones  had  been  suddenly  crushed  down  by  the 
weight  of  some  powerful  foot.  Silently  they 
stole  to  a  crevice  in  the  boards,  opposite  the 
open  door.  Not  a  jailer  was  to  be  seen ;  and 
the  prisoners  were  motionless  and  apparently 
breathless,  with  the  exception  of  one  powerful 
man,  who  was  just  drawing  the  wooden  mallet 
in  his  hand  for  another  blow  on  the  temple  of 
the  suspended  Kathayan.  It  came  down  with 
the  same  dull,  hollow,  crushing  sound ;  the  body 
swayed  from  the  point  where  it  was  suspended 
by  wrist  and  ankle,  till  it  seemed  that  every 
joint  must  be  dislocated ;  but  the  flesh  scarcely 
quivered.  The  blow  was  repeated,  and  then 


22  THE    KATHAYAN    SLAVE. 

another,  and  another;  but  they  were  not  needed. 
The  poor  captive  Kathayan  was  dead. 

The  mallet  was  placed  away  from  sight,  and 
the  daring  man  hobbled  back  to  his  corner, 
dangling  his  heavy  chain  as  though  it  had  been 
a  plaything,  and  striving  with  all  his  might  to 
look  unconscious  and  unconcerned.  An  evident 
feeling  of  relief  stole  over  the  prisoners  ;  the 
Children  of  the  Prison  came  back  to  their 
places,  one  by  one,  and  all  went  on  as  before. 
It  was  some  time  before  any  one  appeared  to 
discover  the  death  of  the  Kathayan.  The  old 
Tiger  declared  it  was  what  he  had  been  expect- 
ing, that  his  living  on  in  this  manner  was  quite 
out  of  rule  ;  but  that  those  hardy  fellows  from 
the  hills  never  would  give  in,  while  there  was  a 
possibility  of  drawing  another  breath.  Then 
the  poor  skeleton  was  unchained,  dragged  by 
the  heels  into  the  prison-yard,  and  thrown  into  a 
gutter.  It  did  not  apparently,  fall  properly,  for 
one  of  the  jailers  altered  the  position  of  the 
shoulders  by  means  of  his  foot ;  then  clutching 
the  long  black  hair,  jerked  the  head  a  little 
farther  on  the  side.  Thus  the  discolored  temple 
was  hidden ;  and  surely  that  emaciated  form 


THE    KATHAYAN    SLAVE.  23 

gave  sufficient  evidence  of  a  lingering  death. 
Soon  after,  a  party  of  government  officers 
visited  the  prison-yard,  touched  the  corpse  with 
their  feet,  without  raising  it ;  and,  apparently 
satisfied,  turned  away,  as  though  it  had  been  a 
dead  dog,  that  they  cared  not  to  give  farther 
attention. 

Is  it  strange  that,  if  one  were  there,  with  a 
human  heart  within  him,  not  brutalized  by  crime 
or  steeled  by  passive  familiarity  with  suffering, 
he  should  have  dragged  his  heavy  chain  to  the 
side  of  the  dead,  and  dropped  upon  his  sharp- 
ened, distorted  features,  the  tear,  which  there 
was  none  who  had  loved  him,  to  shed  ?  Is  it 
strange  that  tender  fingers  should  have  closed 
the  staring  eyes,  and  touched  gently  the  cold 
brow,  which  throbbed  no  longer  with  pain,  and 
smoothed  the  frayed  hair,  and  composed  the 
passive  limbs  decently,  though  he  knew  that 
the  next  moment  rude  hands  would  destroy  the 
result  of  his  pious  labor  ?  And  is  it  strange  that 
when  all  which  remained  of  the  poor  sufferer, 
had  been  jostled  into  its  sackcloth  shroud,  and 
crammed  down  into  the  dark  hole  dug  for  it  in 
the  earth,  a  prayer  should  have  ascended,  even 


24  THE    KATHAYAN    SLAVE. 

from  that  terrible  prison  ?  Not  a  prayer  for  the 
dead ;  he  had  received  his  doom.  But  an 
earnest,  beseeching,  upheaving  of  the  heart,  for 
those  wretched  beings  that,  in  the  face  of  the  pure 
heavens  and  the  smiling  earth,  confound,  by  the 
inherent  blackness  of  their  natures,  philosopher, 
priest  or  philanthropist,  who  dares  to  tickle  the 
ears  of  the  multitude  with  fair  theories  of 
'  Natural  religion,'  and  '  The  dignity  of  human 
nature.' 


MEE    SHWAY-EE. i 

IN  the  tropic  land  of  Burmah, 

Where  the  sun  grows  never  old  ; 
And  the  regal-browed  palmyra 

Crowns  her  head  with  clouds  of  gold ; 
On  a  strange,  wild  promontory, 

Close  beside  the  rushing  sea, 
Listening  ever  to  the  billows, 

Dwelt  poor  little  Mee  Shway-ee. 

But  along  the  sandy  sea-shore, 

Or  amid  the  foliage  green, 
Stringing  rows  of  crimson  berries, 

Was  the  maiden  never  seen  ; 
Never  twined  she  her  black  tresses 

With  the  golden  mazalee  ; 
For  a  wild  and  wo-marked  slave-child, 

Was  poor  little  Mee  Shway-ee. 

1  A  very  interesting  account  of  this  slave  child  may  be 
found  in  the  Baptist  Missionary  Magazine  for  April,  1829. 


26  MEE    SHWAY-EE. 

And  when  in  the  hush  of  twilight 

Rose  a  startling  eldritch  cry, 
Answered  by  the  grey-winged  osprey, 

Plunging  seaward  from  the  sky  ; 
Then  the  village  wives  and  maidens, 

As  they  glanced  from  roof  to  sea, 
Whispered  of  a  human  osprey, 

And  poor  writhing  Mee  Shway-ee. 

But  a  messenger  of  Jesus  — 

Him  who,  centuries  ago, 
Bared  His  bosom  to  the  arrow 

Winged  by  human  guilt  and  woe, 
And  then  said,  '  Go  preach  my  gospel ! 

Lo!  I'm  evermore  with  thee;' — 
One  who  served  this  blessed  Jesus, 

Found  poor  trembling  Mee  Shway-ee. 

Found  her  wan,  and  scarred,  and  bleeding, 

Mad  with  agony  and  sin ; 
So  love's  arms  were  opened  widely, 

And  the  sufferer  folded  in  ; 
Tender  fingers  soothed  and  nursed  her, 

And  'twas  wonderful  to  see, 
How  the  winning  glance  of  pity 

Tamed  the  elf-child,  Mee  Shway-ee. 


MEE    SHWAY-EE. 


27 


For,  beneath  those  drooping  eyelids 

Shone  a  human  spirit  now, 
And  the  light  of  thought  came  playing 

Softly  over  lip  and  brow ; 
But  her  little  footstep  faltered,  — 

Beamed  her  eye  more  lovingly,  — 
And  'twas  known  that  death  stood  claiming 
Gentle,  trusting,  Mee  Shway-ee. 

But  to  her  he  came  an  angel, 

Throned  in  clouds  of  rosy  light ; 
Came  to  bear  her  to  that  Saviour, 

Who  had  broke  her  weary  night ; 
And  with  smiles  she  sought  his  bosom ; 

So,  beside  the  rushing  sea, 
'Neath  the  weeping  casuarina, 

Laid  they  little  Mee  Shway-ee. 


MADNESS   OF  THE  MISSIONARY 
ENTERPRISE. 

«  WHAT  has  been  the  fruit,  or  what  may  rea- 
sonably be  expected  to  be  the  fruit  of  all  these 
labors  and  sufferings,  of  all  these  privations, 
sacrifices,  sicknesses,  and  deaths  ?  *  *  *  It  is 
our  deliberate  conviction  that  the  whole  enter- 
prise was  uncalled  for  *  *  that  she  had 
better  have  remained  at  home.'  —  Review  of 
Anne  Judson's  Memoir.  1828. 

*  These  workings,'  ['  of  brother  Carey's  mind,'] 
'  produced  a  sermon,  and  the  sermon  a  subscrip- 
tion to  convert  four  hundred  and  twenty  millions 
of  pagans.'  —  Edinburgh  Review.  1809. 

'  So  with  these  12£  cents  a-piece,  and  a  parcel 
of  crazy  boys  and  romantic  girls,  you  are  expect- 
ing to  see  the  world  converted.'  —  The  Rev.  D.  B. 
1836. 


THE    MISSIONARY    ENTERPRISE.  29 

'The  notice  of  the  sailing  of  Missionaries  is 
too  often  and  speedily  followed  by  the  account 
of  their  early  death ;  and  it  is  time  a  word  of 
caution  was  spoken,  especially  to  females.'  — 
New  York  Express.  1846. 

'  This  is  another  instance  of  infatuation,'  &c. 
'  We  really  think  there  should  be  a  law  against 
the  wholesale  sacrifice  of  life  which  is  continu- 
ally chronicled  among  those  who  imagine  they 
are  called  to  labor  in  unhealthy  climes  as  the 
wives  of  missionaries.'  —  Boston  Transcript. 
1846. 

As  I  stood  not  long  since  in  the  shadow  of 
the  Hopea  tree,  overlooking  the  mouldering  ashes 
of  one  who,  in  the  words  of  the  early  Jerusalem 
Church,  had  '  hazarded  her  life  for  Christ ; '  and 
as  I  thought  of  all  she  had  suffered,  all  she  had 
done  and  dared,  the  words  of  her  Reviewer 
rushed  upon  my  mind  with  almost  overpower- 
ing force.  Boodhistic  temples  and  pagodas  still 
decorate  the  little  promontory  on  which  her 
grave  is  made;  and  monks,  with  shaven  crowns 
and  trailing  yellow  robes,  still  promenade  the 
streets,  and  are  reverenced  as  oracles,  by  the 


30  MADNESS    OF    THE 

blinded  idolaters  of  Amherst,  while  all  that  re- 
mains to  tell  of  her,  is  this  grassy  mound,  and 
this  mildewed,  mossy  marble. 

And  may  it  not,  after  all,  be  true  that  her 
sacrifice  was  vain,  —  that  'the  enterprise  was 
uncalled  for,' — 'that  she  had  better  have  re- 
mained at  home  ?  ' 

This  apparently  calm  view  of  the  subject,  is 
not  the  '  deliberate  conviction '  of  one  man  only, 
nor  of  one  class  of  men  ;  but  thousands,  both 
in  Europe  and  America,  have  arrived  at  simi- 
lar conclusions.  The  learned  philosopher  of 
Edinburgh,  the  obscure  Baptist  preacher,  taking 
an  indignant  farewell  of  his  mission-tinctured 
flock,  the  observant,  worldly-wise  gentleman  of 
the  Express,  and  the  lady  editor  of  Puritanic 
New  England,  all  join  their  voices  with  the 
Unitarian  Reviewer's,  and  conspire  to  proclaim 
that  she  and  all  her  successors  are  fanatics,  and 
that  the  cause  in  which  she  fell  is  based  upon 
the  most  extravagant  absurdity.  And,  candidly, 
viewing  this  subject  in  the  subdued  light  of 
sober  common  sense,  have  they  not  good  ground 
for  their  opinion?  "Who  are  the  originators, 
who  the  supporters  of  this  scheme  of  modern 


MISSIONARY    ENTERPRISE.  31 

missions,  and  what  are  their  plans  and  re- 
sources ?  Is  it  headed  by  some  mighty  poten- 
tate, with  the  lives  and  treasure  of  a  nation  at 
his  control,  and  can  it  display  a  goodly  list  of 
titled  names — men  of  renown,  and  influence, 
and  power  ?  Was  it  originated  by  some  deep- 
judging,  far-seeing  statesman,  whose  matchless 
policy  has  been  the  wonder  of  the  age  in  which 
he  lives  ?  Or  did  it  emanate  from  some  school 
of  reverend  sages,  so  wise,  so  good,  and  so  phi- 
Janthropic,  as  to  hold  the  entire  world  in  awe  ? 
Perhaps  it  has  somehow  linked  itself  with  com- 
mercial interests,  and  may  claim  as  its  projectors 
those  '  merchant  princes '  who  are  said  to  consti- 
tute the  ballast  of  the  nations,  and  whose 
resources  are  bounded  only  by  the  impossibilities 
of  art.  Alas  no!  none  of  these.  Leaving  out 
of  the  account,  as  irrelevant  to  our  present 
purpose,  certain  stirrings  on  the  continent  of 
Europe  all  through  the  eighteenth  century,  let 
us  take  note  of  the  movement  among  people  of 
our  own  blood  and  language.  In  England  it 
emanated  (so  says  the  Edinburgh  Review)  from 
a  'nest  of  consecrated  cobblers;'  and  then  a 
half  dozen  American  school-boys  rushed  forward 


32  MADNESS    OP    THE 

to  light  their  tiny  tapers  at  the  cobbler's  fire. 
And  what  was  to  be  done  ?  What  Quixotic 
expedition  did  these  ignorant  mechanics  and 
'  crazy  boys  and  girls '  contemplate  ?  Nothing 
less  than  the  entire  renovation  of  the  entire 
world.  So,  in  order  to  accomplish  this  magnifi- 
cent scheme,  did  they  band  together,  unite  all 
their  little  resources,  and  pour  their  consecrated 
strength  upon  a  single  point?  Far  from  it. 
Defying  all  the  rules  that  have  ever  governed 
the  operations  of  wise  men,  they  scattered  them-, 
selves  as  widely  as  possible,  and  the  plains  of 
India,  Chin-India,  and  China,  the  burning  deserts 
of  Africa,  the  frozen,  rugged  wildernesses  of 
America,  and  the  far  Islands  of  the  sea  have 
not  been  thought  too  wide  a  range  for  these 
victims  of  unmitigated  madness. 

Let  us  contemplate  for  a  moment  one  of 
these  fanatics,  with  his  white  face  and  outre 
garb,  sitting  down  in  a  strange  city,  ignorant 
of  the  language  and  customs  of  the  people ; 
yet  with  the  deliberate  and  avowed  intention 
of  subverting  their  favorite  tastes,  thwarting 
their  dearest  prejudices,  overthrowing  their  time- 
honored  institutions,  degrading  the  memories  of 


MISSIONARY    ENTERPRISE. 


33 


their  fathers,  and  teaching  them  and  their  sons 
to  worship  a  God  of  whom  they  never  before 
heard,  and  look  forward  to  an  eternity  whose 
very  blissfulness  is  distasteful  to  them.  But 
this  is  not  all.  If  he  aimed  at  an  outward 
change  merely,  his  very  insanity  might  be  turned 
to  account,  and  he  might  wield  the  power  of 
Lady  Hester  Stanhope  through  similar  inspira- 
tion. The  juggler's  gown  and  wand,  a  charmed 
necklace,  or  even  the  crucifix  and  rosary  of  the 
Romanists  would  doubtless  prove  powerful  in- 
struments in  cunning  hands.  But  no ;  he  has 
no  peculiar  dress,  no  relics,  no  pretended  charms; 
and  he  labors  not  merely  for  change  of  profes- 
sion, but  the  burden  of  his  cry  is,  '  Ye  must  be 
born  again!'  Every  individual,  man,  woman, 
and  child,  must  undergo  a  radical  change  of 
nature,  a  mystic  inner  renovation,  which  the 
teacher  himself  does  not  profess  ability  to  com- 
pass, and  of  which  he  can  give  no  description 
satisfactory  to  reason,  or  more  definite  in  its 
accuracy,  than  would  be  an  account  of  the; 
wanderings  of  the  wind. 

But  there  must  be  power,  somewhere ;  there 
must  be  resources  of  some  sort ;  otherwise,  in- 
3 


34  MADNESS    OF    THE 

fatuation  itself  would  die  for  want  of  nourish- 
ment. Who  are  the  supporters,  the  encouragers 
of  this  stupendous  scheme  ?  Still,  the  '  cobbler,' 
the  blacksmith,  and  the  day-laborer,  act  a  prom- 
inent part ;  but  he  must  have  a  weary  search, 
indeed,  who  would  find  the  names  of  kings, 
princes,  and  nobles.  Some  men  of  wealth  and 
influence  may  be  scattered  through  the  ranks, 
here  and  there ;  but  the  poor  of  this  world  are 
emphatically  the  patrons  of  missions.  The  pale 
seamstress  lays  aside  her  hard-earned  pittance 
of  a  Saturday  evening ;  the  washerwoman  for- 
gets not  the  mission  penny  before  she  kneels  to 
thank  God  that  another  week  of  toil  has  been 
added  to  her  busy  life ;  and  the  sad-eyed  widow 
calls  her  hungry  troop  of  little  ones  about  her, 
tells  them  of  poor  heathen  children,  until  their 
little  hearts  are  melted,  and  thus  she  adds  her 
loaf  of  bread  to  the  sacred  treasury.  Persons 
of  ampler  means  give  more,  as  each  one  pleases ; 
but  there  is  no  fountain  of  wealth,  no  bank,  no 
system  of  taxation,  no  legal  claim  on  any  person 
or  body  of  persons ;  and,  of  course,  no  earthly 
certainty  that  the  project  will  be  able  to  main- 
tain itself  a  single  month.  The  madmen  who 


MISSIONARY    ENTERPRISE.  dD 

go  to  the  heathen  are  utterly  at  the  mercy  of  the 
madmen  who  stay  at  home.  And  yet,  notwith- 
standing all  this  uncertainty,  there  is  scarcely  a 
nook  of  the  wide  earth  which  they  have  not 
penetrated ;  scarcely  a  forest  tree,  from  the 
stunted  fir  of  the  frozen  regions,  to  the  tall 
palm  of  the  south,  whose  leaves  have  not  quiv- 
ered to  the  sacred  airs  rising  from  every  village 
spire  of  fair  America. 

But  a  price  has  been  paid  for  all  this  —  the 
price  of  human  lives  ;  and  so  '  it  is  time  a  word 
of  caution  was  spoken  —  especially  to  females.' 
This  is  doubtless  very  kind,  —  kindly  intended, 
and,  perhaps,  wisely  thought,  —  but  who  will 
vouch  for  its  reception  ?  The  self-willed  young 
madcaps,  who  have  heard  of  missions  in  their 
cradles,  who  have  read  their  Bibles  in  simple 
faith,  and  who  have  bowed  their  unquestioning 
hearts  to  certain  mysterious  closet-teachings,  at 
which  our  man  of  the  world  would  only  smile, 
will  scarcely  be  so  easily  controlled.  Oh,  no ; 
would  he  blow  back  the  hurricane  with  his  lips, 
or  stay  the  rushing  tide  with  his  palm  ? 

Let  us  look  a  little  closer  into  the  workings  of 
this  insanity.  A  timid  young  girl,  never  before 


36  MADNESS    OF    THE 

suspected  of  differing  materially  from  other  girls, 
suddenly  rises  from  the  midst  of  loving  brothers 
and  sisters,  and  announces  her  intention  of  going 
away  to  the  heathen.  Calmly  and  deliberately 
she  proposes  a  sacrifice  of  all  she  is  now  —  of 
ah1  her  future  earthly  prospects.  She  proposes 
nothing  less  than  to  abandon  the  sweet  com- 
panionship of  early  friends,  to  leave  the  shelter 
of  the  paternal  wing,  voluntarily,  and  perhaps 
in  the  midst  of  opposition  and  ridicule,  cast  off' 
the  protection  of  civilized  society  and  the  laws 
of  a  Christian  land,  and  go  out  to  lead  an 
almost  nomadic  life  among  the  vilest  and  most 
degraded  of  the  human  race.  Some  encourage, 
some  smile,  and  others  stare  ;  while,  in  many 
cases,  the  dissecting  knife  of  criticism  is  whet- 
ted to  a  miracle  of  sharpness.  A  set  of  petty 
philosophers,  of  whom  every  country  village 
can  furnish  its  quota  —  physiognomists,  phre- 
nologists, psychologists,  and  professors  of  other 
dreamy  nonsense,  suddenly  become  aware  of  a 
new  object  for  the  exercise  of  their  philanthropic 
vocation.  They  scan  her  features,  they  measure 
her  head,  they  guage  her  intellect,  they  analyze 
her  affections,  they  trick  out  in  modern  frippery 


MISSIONARY    ENTERPRISE. 


37 


some  old  moth-eaten  theory  of  mind  for  her 
benefit ;  and  then  give  utterance  to  profound 
saws  about  romance,  —  love  of  adventure,  —  de- 
sire for  distinction,  —  a  day  of  repentance,  — 
while  she,  poor  thing !  scared  at  such  doubtful 
notoriety,  involuntarily  places  her  hand  on  her 
throat,  apprehensive  that  she  may  have  been 
metamorphosed  into  '  the  woman  that  was  going 
to  be  hanged.'  Well,  it  is  a  good  beginning  of 
the  life  she  is  to  lead  ;  and,  to  the  over-sensitive, 
perhaps  is  needful. 

But  how  is  it  with  their  prophecies?  Does 
repentance  come  ?  Is  her  romance  crushed  be- 
neath the  heavy  tread  of  dull,  cold  reality  ?  Is 
her  love  of  adventure  tamed  by  the  monotonous 
routine  of  a  missionary  life  ?  Is  her  desire 
for  distinction  superseded  by  misanthropic  dis- 
appointment, when  no  human  eye  but  that  of 
her  husband  is  upon  her  ?  Follow  her,  and  we 
shall  see. 

Lo !  her  tread  is  as  light  as  in  the  gladsome 
days  of  girlhood ;  her  smile  is  as  cheerful,  and 
in  its  brightness  there  is  a  depth  of  meaning,  a 
richness  of  expression,  that  it  never  possessed 
before.  Behold  her  seated  by  her  rude  table, 


38  MADNESS    OF    THE 

straining  her  eager  eye  to  follow  the  dim  tracery 
of  the  stylus  —  not  through  fields  of  enchanting 
lore ;  not  over  pages  replete  with  the  poetry 
and  romance  which  she  once  loved.  No ;  she 
is  intent  only  on  making  herself  familiar  with 
the  arbitrary  signs  of  a  difficult,  unclassified 
tongue.  See  with  what  interest  she  watches 
the  swarthy  lips  of  the  ignorant  barbarian,  who 
thinks  he  honors  her  by  condescending  to  be 
her  teacher;  trying,  meantime,  to  imitate  his 
uncouth  sounds,  till  her  voice  grows  tremulous, 
and  her  cheek  pales  with  exertion.  Then  follow 
her  to  her  pillow,  and  hear  her  murmur  the 
same  difficult  words  in  her  unrefreshing  sleep. 
Surel^his  romance  is  not  like  other  romance. 
It  is  too  steady  and  persevering,  too  much  like 
that  high  fixedness  of  purpose,  which  constitutes 
the  strength  of  the  strongest  manhood ;  and,  in 
its  deathless  tenacity,  it  surpasses  even  that. 
Well,  she  goes  on  day  after  day,  patiently  and 
toilfully  —  day  after  day,  as  monotonously  as 
the  weaver's  shuttle ;  and  at  last,  she  has  a  sen- 
tence or  two  at  her  command.  How  full  of 
emotion  are  her  face  and  voice,  as  she  repeats 
to  every  stranger  on  whom  her  eye  falls,  '  There 


MISSIONARY    ENTERPRISE.  OU 

is  an  eternal  God  ! '  '  There  is  a  way  of  sal- 
vation for  sinners  ! ' 

But  behold !  a  change.  The  miasma  of  a 
deadly  climate  has  crept  into  her  veins,  and  is 
settling  down  upon  the  springs  of  life.  She  has 
the  strongest  motives  for  wishing  to  live,  but  the 
stealthy  progress  of  insidious  disease  has  be- 
guiled her  too  long,  and  she  is  dying.  Now, 
perhaps,  one  desperate  effort  is  made  to  save  her 
—  an  effort  which  comes  too  late.  She  is 
tossing  on  the  ocean,  but  she  speaks  from  a  bed 
of  death.  Hear  her.  '  I  have  done  nothing  for 
Christ ;  but,  thanks  to  His  grace,  I  have  had  it 
in  my  heart  to  do ;  and  since  He  sees  fit  to  call 
me  home,  I  know  it  is  best.  His  will  be  done ! ' 
The  moments  ebb.  Her  breath  grows  shorter, 
and  her  eye  is  rapidly  glazing.  Again  she 
speaks,  but  the  ear  must  bend  low  to  catch  the 
feeble  murmur,  —  'Tell  —  tell  my  mother — I — 
have  never  been  sorry  that  I  came.' 

What  inconceivable  infatuation  !  What  im- 
measurable madness,  even  in  death  !  But  the 
contagion  stops  not  here.  In  the  hush  of  twi- 
light, a  seemingly  sacred  object  is  gently  and 
solemnly  borne  to  the  deck,  lifted  over  the 


40  MADNESS    OF    THE 

vessel's  side  ;  and  thus  all  that  was  ever  mortal, 
of  that  now  immortal  one,  sinks  in  the  unfath- 
omed  deep.  But  the  plunge,  soft  and  low  as  it 
is,  reaches  to  her  far  native  land,  and  its  echo 
rings  out  from  hill  and  valley,  from  busy  town, 
and  forest  hamlet,  shaping  itself  into  the  heart- 
felt exclamation,  '  HERE  AM  I  —  SEND  ME!  '  A 
caution,  indeed!  and  what  words  can  point  a 
sterner  caution,  than  the  skeleton  finger  of  Death 
himself  ? 

Take  another  instance  ;  for  '  the  notice  of  the 
sailing  of  missionaries  '  is  not  always  '  followed 
by  the  account  of  their  early  death.'  The  mis- 
sionary wife  has  survived  the  acclimating  pro- 
cess, has  learned  to  use  a  foreign  tongue,  and 
has  made  for  herself  a  little  nucleus  of  human 
love.  She  has  become  familiar  with  toil,  and 
suffering,  and  want,  and  insult,  but  she  has  sur- 
vived all  ;  and,  though  her  history  may  par- 
tially be  read  in  the  pallid  cheek  and  drooping 
figure,  her  eye  never  glowed  with  a  loftier 
enthusiasm  than  now,  and  her  lip  never  curved 
to  a  more  soul-beaming  soul.  Far  back  in  her 
history,  when  she  was  a  young  and  blooming 
wife,  does  the  tale  of  her  trials  begin.  Then  it 


MISSIONARY    ENTERPRISE. 


41 


was  that  sickness  first  came,  and  though  she  had 
scarcely  ever  noted  its  form  before,  love  imparted 
singular  skill  to  her  unpractised  hand,  and  she 
pored  over  books  of  medicine,  until  she  grew  to 
be  almost  learned  in  her  new  profession.  There 
was  a  call  from  the  wilderness,  and  she  smiled 
the  one  earthly  protector  from  her  side,  and 
stood  up,  alone  and  sublime  in  her  helplessness, 
amid  swarms  of  hostile  barbarians.  The  mid- 
night robber  came  ;  the  pestilence  swept  past 
her;  the  pupil  over  whom  she  had  wept  and 
prayed,  and  for  whose  welfare  she  had  toiled  for 
weary  years,  sunk  back  into  apostasy ;  but  her 
heart  never  fainted,  her  hand  never  wavered. 
She  had  still  other  tears  and  other  prayers,  and 
she  longed  to  pour  out  all  in  her  Master's  ser- 
vice. Her  own  strength  failed.  She  pressed 
her  hand  to  her  aching  side,  stifled  the  groan 
upon  her  lip,  and  toiled  on.  Death  visited  the 
missionary's  dwelling.  The  quivering  hands  of 
the  mother  closed  the  eyes  of  her  first-born  child, 
wrapped  the  white  robes  about  it,  and  crossed 
the  little  icy  fingers  on  the  bosom,  while  the 
father  prepared  the  coffin  and  the  grave,  then 
cast  the  cold  clods  upon  his  darling,  and  sobbed 
out  the  final  prayer. 


42  MADNESS    OF    THE 

The  hour  of  agony  passed,  and  the  childless 
mother  was  again  at  her  toil.  Another,  and 
perhaps  still  another  blossom  drooped  before  her 
eyes ;  while  some  wild  river-bank,  or  the  dark 
dingle  shadowed  by  jungle-trees,  became  the 
depository  of  her  dearest  treasures.  But  she 
paused  not,  she  faltered  not,  for  the  madness 
nestled  in  the  very  core  of  her  heart ;  and  there 
was  One  she  loved  better  than  children,  better 
than  her  own  life.  So  on,  and  still  onward,  in 
one  unvarying  track,  she  has  gone,  till  now 
another  bitter  trial  awaits  her. 

She  has  a  darling  boy,  the  oldest  that  the 
grave  has  left  her.  She  has  borne  him  long 
upon  her  bosom,  she  taught  him  the  accents  of 
his  mother  tongue,  she  trained  his  affections, 
she  watched  and  guided  his  budding  intellect, 
feeling  herself  the  only  avenue  through  which  it 
might  be  enriched  ;  and  she  loves  this  priceless 
jewel  of  her  solitude,  as  no  other  mother  on 
earth  can  love.  Oh,  no  ;  it  is  not  lack  of  affec- 
tion, but  an  intense  concentration  of  all  the 
powers  of  the  soul,  strong,  deep,  ardent,  though 
severely  disciplined,  that  makes  her  dare  the 
sacrifice.  To  a  casual  observer,  this  son  of  her 


MISSIONARY    ENTERPRISE.  4d 

watchful  loneliness  would  appear  a  child  of 
uncommon  promise.  But  the  mother  knows 
that  this  promise  is  deceitful ;  that  his  attain- 
ments, quickly  and  easily  made,  are  superficial ; 
that  his  seeming  intellectuality  is  not  the  growth 
of  his  own  mind,  but  the  result,  rather,  of  a 
foreign  stratum  wrought  over  it ;  and  she  trem- 
bles lest  the  hot-house  precocity  of  the  child 
should  prove  but  the  precursor  of  early  death, 
or  an  imbecile  manhood.  The  thousand  stimuli 
to  exertion  —  especially  the  invigorating,  sharp- 
ening contact  of  mind  with  mind,  peculiar  to  a 
civilized  people,  she  has  often  lamented  on  her 
own  behalf;  and  she  has,  thus  far,  taxed  her 
ingenuity  to  the  utmost,  to  prevent  her  child 
sinking  into  the  inert  listlessness,  the  inefficiency 
and  indolence,  which  characterize  the  heathen 
character.  But  she  begins  to  find  that  it  is 
beyond  her  power,  to  impart  the  mental  stamina 
which  he  so  much  needs ;  while  there  is  nothing 
in  the  community  surrounding  them,  to  tax  his 
energies,  or  develope  his  dormant  resources.  A 
physical  change,  too,  is  gradually  creeping  over 
him.  He  has  grown  tall  and  thin,  and  there  is 
a  sickly  stoop  in  his  shoulders.  The  expression 


44  MADNESS    OF    THE 

of  his  face  is  sad,  and  disagreeably  mature  ;  his 
features  are  sharpened ;  and  he  has  a  feeble, 
timid  air,  and  a  querulous  tone  to  his  voice,  in 
painful  contrast  with  the  freshness  and  buoyancy 
suited  to  his  years.  The  missionary  wife  and 
mother  has  drank  many  a  bitter  draught,  but 
there  is  one  before  her  now,  almost  too  bitter 
for  her  to  contemplate.  She  must  part  from 
her  beloved  child,  or  sacrifice  him  to  maternal 
weakness.  Strange  that  a  bright  alternative 
does  not  suggest  itself.  Strange  that,  as  her 
thoughts  revert  to  her  own  childhood,  the  waving 
grain,  the  fragrant  orchards,  the  cool,  health- 
inspiring  breezes  of  her  native  hills,  commingled 
with  visions  of  loved  faces,  and  dear  familiar 
voices,  and  Sabbath  bells,  and  all  the  precious 
associations  of  early  days,  should  not  draw  her 
relenting  heart  homeward.  But,  no  ;  the  mad- 
ness is  upon  her ;  and  a  voice  is  continually 
proclaiming  in  her  ear,  '  He  that  loveth  son  or 
daughter  more  than  me,  is  not  worthy  of  me.' 
She  takes  her  child  to  her  bosom  for  the  last 
time  ;  her  last  kiss  is  on  his  lip,  her  last  prayer 
is  in  his  ear ;  the  soft,  loving  pressure  of  her 
hand  has  been  left  upon  his  head  for  the  last 


MISSIONARY    ENTERPRISE.  45 

time  ;  and  now  she  is  alone  in  her  agony.  It 
matters  not  to  her  that  cold  cavillers  sit  in  their 
luxurious  mansions,  and  speculate  on  the  pro- 
priety of  her  sacrifice.  She  knows  that  she  has 
the  approbation  of  the  eternal  God,  and  to  Him 
alone  does  she  look  for  consolation,  in  her  sharp 
anguish. 

Years  pass,  and  there  is  another  death-bed. 
Watch  her  carefully ;  listen  attentively ;  see  if 
there  come  not  some  little  word,  some  little 
token  of  the  repentance  prophesied  at  the  com- 
mencement of  her  career.  Threads  of  silver 
have  begun  to  mingle  with  the  darker  hue 
shading  her  temples,  She  is  not  old,  but  she 
has  reached  that  meridian  at  which  romance 
usually  gives  place  to  maturity  of  judgment; 
and  her  enthusiasm  has  long  since  been  sub- 
jected to  the  chastening  influence  of  sorrow. 
Surely  she  must  have  gained  some  wisdom  in 
all  these  busy  years ;  and  perhaps  in  the  mother's 
last  message  to  her  son,  she  will  be  able  to 
divest  herself  of  her  life-long  madness.  Let  us 
see.  '  Tell  him,'  she  says,  '  tell  him  I  have 
thought  of  him,  and  of  one  more  meeting  here 
on  earth,  with  painfully  delicious  longing.  But 


46  MADNESS    OF    THE 

since  it  is  not  the  will  of  God  that  I  should  look 
upon  his  face  again,  bid  him  prepare  to  meet 
me  hereafter  in  our  Father's  mansions.  And 
oh,  it  is  a  joy  for  me  to  hope,  that  when  I  am 
mouldering  in  the  dust,  it  may  please  the  Lord 
to  call  my  son  to  preach  the  gospel  to  these  poor 
heathen ! ' 

What  will  a  word  of  caution  avail  against 
monomaniacy  like  this  ?  Ah,  '  there  should  be 
a  law.'  Indeed !  and  does  not  our  kind  philan- 
thropist know  that  human  invention  has  been 
on  the  rack  for  the  last  eighteen  centuries  to 
devise  a  law  which  should  palsy  the  feet  and 
seal  the  lips  of  these  same  bearers  of  glad 
tidings?  But  we  need  not  go  so  far  back  for 
examples.  What  but  English  law  caused  the 
early  English  missionaries  to  flee  to  the  ships  of 
Denmark  and  America ;  and  thus  spread  the 
contagion  of  their  strange  malady  far  and  wide  ? 
What  but  Anglo-Indian  law  placed  the  martyr- 
crown  upon  the  brow  of  young  Harriet  Newell ; 
and  made  every  drop  of  blood  that  it  caused 
to  stagnate  in  her  veins,  the  germ  of  another 
missionary?  And  what  but  the  same  law 
hunted  her  companions,  like  vagabonds,  from 


MISSIONARY    ENTERPRISE.  47 

shore  to  shore,  opening  to  them  new  fields  of 
labor,  giving  the  widest  possible  scope  to  their 
powers,  and  by  means  of  its  very  hatred  of  mis- 
sions, actually  planting  new  missions.  And  has 
not  the  law  of  every  Pagan  nation  beneath  the 
heavens,  from  the  bloody  savages  of  Sumatra, 
to  the  comparatively  polished  children  of  the 
Celestial  Empire,  closed  its  strong  gates,  or 
shaken  its  manacles  in  the  face  of  the  un- 
heeding missionary?  And  what  can  tolerant 
America  do,  more  than  these  ?  She  must  have 
strangely  gifted  legislators,  indeed,  to  devise  an 
edict  that  should  prove  stronger  than  prison 
bars  and  clanking  chains  ;  than  all  the  crimson 
paraphernalia  of  death,  which  spreads  itself  be- 
fore the  missionary  in  his  hour  of  consecration. 
But  it  is  time  to  inquire  what  all  this  won- 
drous madness  means;  to  search  out,  if  pos- 
sible, the  controlling  principle  of  this  mighty 
progressive  movement,  which,  though  begun  in 
obscurity,  and  carried  on  in  weakness,  is  rapidly 
gaining  the  respect  of  even  the  most  skeptical. 
What  is  it  that  draws  the  wisdom  of  gray  hairs, 
the  enthusiasm  of  youth,  and  the  simplicity  of 
childhood,  into  a  community  of  feeling  and  ac- 


48  MADNESS    OF    THE 

tion  ?  What  is  it  that  makes  the  weak  strong, 
the  timid  daring;  that  turns  the  tremulous  nerve 
to  iron,  and  the  waxen  will  to  adamant ;  that 
laughs  alike  at  human  reason  and  human  laws ; 
and  goes  forth  trampling  with  stern,  though 
meek  deliberation,  on  dangers,  difficulties,  and 
death  itself?  What  is  it,  but  the  highest,  the 
deepest,  the  most  absorbing  principle  of  our 
nature  —  LOVE. 

For  examples  of  the  strength  of  this  wonder- 
working principle,  in  its  imperfect  human  de- 
velopment, we  have  no  need  to  search  occasional 
records,  and  take  eager  note  of  the  wife  who 
follows  her  husband  to  the  battle-field,  or  the 
mother  who  leaps  into  the  sea,  or  mounts  to  the 
aerie  of  the  eagle,  for  her  child.  We  have 
every  day  before  our  eyes,  in  the  commonest 
walks  of  life,  among  the  rudest  natures,  beau- 
tiful, nay,  sublime  exhibitions  of  the  intensity, 
the  depth,  the  deathlessness  of  this  passion  of 
love.  But  all  we  see,  all  we  read  of  in  human 
history,  is  but  as  a  ray  from  the  sun,  a  single 
drop  from  the  mighty  fountain,  a  ripple  on  that 
limitless  ocean,  which  is  singled  out  by  Inspi- 
ration from  other  Divine  attributes,  as  the  fit- 


MISSIONARY    ENTERPRISE.  49 

ting  representative  of  all  —  the  synonym  of 
Deity. 

'  God  is  love.'  He  so  loved  the  world,  that 
He  gave  the  Son  of  His  bosom  to  save  it  from 
merited  destruction.  Christ,  the  Redeemer, 
loved  it  even  unto  death  ;  and  he  loves  it  now. 
And  whoever  has  drunk  most  deeply  of  His 
spirit,  shows  it  most  in  loving  with  a  Christ-like 
fervor  and  self-forgetfulness. 

'  That  the  love  wherewith  Thou  hast  loved 
me,'  said  the  Saviour,  in  that  last  exquisitely 
touching,  peace-breathing  prayer,  before  the  final 
consummation  of  His  sacrifice, — 'That  the  love 
wherewith  Thou  hast  loved  me,  may  be  in 
them,  and  I  in  them!'  What  a  petition  was 
that,  in  the  illimitable  grandeur  of  its  thought,  in 
the  rich  munificence  of  its  affection.  The  love 
wherewith  the  Father  loved  His  only  begotten 
Son,  swelling,  surging  through  the  bosom  of 
man,  breaking  up  those  deep  fountains  of  the 
soul,  which  no  mere  human  finger  has  the 
power  to  reach  ;  and  elevating  him  at  once  to>a 
new  and  mysterious  connection  with  the  Divine 
nature !  Behold,  then,  the  electric  chain  that 
links  the  family  of  God  on  earth ;  and  causes 
4 


50  MADNESS    OF    THE 

the  hearts  of  all  its  members  to  thrill  in  unison, 
at  the  sound  of  the  Controlling  Voice!  And 
what  says  that  voice  ?  Appealing  in  firm,  com- 
manding tones,  to  the  principle  implanted  by 
the  Holy  Spirit  in  the  regenerated  soul  of  man, 
what  is  its  great  requirement?  Go  YE  INTO 

ALL  THE  WORLD,  AND  PREACH  THE  GOSPEL  TO 
EVERY  CREATURE  ! 

Is  this  wise?  —  is  it  reasonable? — will  it  do 
any  good?  —  inquires  the  stranger,  and  while 
he  sits  down  to  doubt  and  cavil,  and  search  for 
lions  in  the  way,  the  unquestioning  child  goes 
away  and  does  the  Father's  bidding.  That 
which  is  madness  and  folly  in  the  eyes  of  one, 
is  regarded  by  the  other  as  but  a  simple,  affec- 
tionate, trustful  act  of  obedience  to  Him  who 
has  the  right  to  control  and  the  power  to  protect  ? 
They  have  no  fears  of  what  the  end  may  be, 
when  He  who  sees  the  end  from  the  beginning  is 
directing  them.  They  have  not  to  experiment, 
and  question,  and  tread  doubtfully  along  the 
tangled  wilderness  of  life.  They  have  a  great 
unerring  Guide,  and  it  is  their  glory  to  follow 
His  voice  and  cling  to  His  hand,  through  what- 
ever He  shall  choose  to  lead  them  ;  to  believe,  to 


MISSIONARY    ENTERPRISE. 


51 


trust,  to  rejoice  in  Him,  even  in  the  midst  of 
temporary  afflictions.  And  thus  it  is  that  they 
shrink  not  from  the  privations,  and  dangers,  and 
difficulties  incident  to  His  service,  feeling  it 
their  highest  honor  to  be  permitted  to  suffer  for 
His  sake.  Oh,  the  love  of  Christ!  the  love  of 
Christ !  this  it  is  which  constitutes  the  spirit  and 
essence  of  missionary  devotion ;  and  to  those 
who  have  never  drunk  from  the  delicious  foun- 
tain, who  have  not  yet  been  made  subjects  of 
that  wondrous  prayer,  '  As  thou  hast  loved  me,' 
it  may  well  be  looked  upon  as  infatuation. 

But  '  what  has  been  the  fruit  of  all  these 
labors  and  sufferings  —  of  all  these  privations, 
sacrifices,  sicknesses,  and  deaths  ?  '  Nothing  to 
become  the  ground  of  boasting,  certainly ;  but 
enough  to  make  all  heaven  rejoice.  Simply  the 
maturing  of  a  few  early  clusters  of  grapes, 
where  only  the  thorn  tree  grew ;  the  gathering 
of  a  few  golden  sheaves  from  the  arid  soil, 
which  never  bore  even  a  blade  of  grass  before. 
And  this  is  surely  worth  the  labor,  if  only  as 
the  precursor  of  a  more  bountiful  harvest.  But 
this  is  not  all  that  has  been  done.  Behold  the 
rivers  of  water  on  their  fertilizing  course  through 


52  MADNESS    OF    THE 

the  desert ;  look  upon  the  thousand  fields  laid 
in  long  rich  furrows  by  the  gospel  plough-share, 
or  stirred,  and  levelled,  and  wetted  with  the 
dews  of  heaven,  waiting  for  the  sower's  coming 
And  there  are  panting  hearts,  and  extended 
hands,  and  ready  feet,  willing,  even  as  the 
Master  wills  it,  to  scatter  the  seed  or  gather  in 
the  harvest.  Ay;  go  traverse  America,  from 
the  borders  of  fair  New  England  to  the  sound- 
ing shores  of  the  Pacific,  and  count,  if  they  can 
be  counted,  the  various  missionary  organiza- 
tions that  have  sprung  up  within  the  last  half 
century.  Go  watch  the  movements  of  the 
thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  of  churches 
by  which  Christendom  is  bespangled,  and  see 
with  what  simultaneous  action  they  step  forth 
to  the  support  of  the  mighty  enterprise.  Nay, 
look  even  at  the  female  sewing-circle,  the  Sun- 
day School  contribution,  the  infant's  penny-box; 
for  know  that  such  are  the  tiny  rills  which  feed 
the  measureless  ocean.  Go  catch  the  watch- 
word, '  To  every  creature !  To  every  creature  ! ' 
which  sounds  forth  a  simultaneous  shout,  from 
missionary  societies  of  every  evangelical  sect; 
for  this  one  point  admits  of  no  jarring  or  discord. 


MISSIONARY    ENTERPRISE.  53 

Go  to  the  records  of  the  Bible  Society,  and 
number  the  tribes  and  nations,  who  have  already 
received  the  word  of  God  in  their  own  tongue. 
Then  turn  to  these  same  nations  and  see  them 
quivering  like  the  leaves  of  November  before 
the  invisible  power  which  is  stealing  so  irresisti- 
bly over  them.  Go,  on  a  holy  Sabbath  morning, 
and  follow  the  course  of  the  sun,  as  he  rises  on 
the  easternmost  port  of  China,  till  he  climbs  over 
the  rocky  hills  of  the  far  West  to  garnish  the 
infant  spires  of  Oregon  and  California.  And 
what  changes  have  not  fifty — thirty  —  ten  — 
nay,  five  years  wrought,  throughout  that  Sab- 
bath track!  How  the  music  of  the  church 
bells  thrills  upon  the  Christian's  heart,  as  on, 
from  port  to  port,  he  takes  his  joyous  way! 
How  few  and  inconsiderable  the  spots,  from 
which  the  voice  of  prayer  and  praise  ascends 
not,  and  in  which  that  '  Light  of  the  world,'  a 
Christian  church,  has  not  been  kindled  I 

'  And  what  may  reasonably  be  expected  to  be 
the  fruit  ? '  Ah !  that  is  a  theme  to  stir  the 
golden  harps  of  heaven  anew,  and  make  the 
wide  earth  vibrate  to  the  joyful  harmony.  It 
looks  forward  to  a  time  when  the  great  family 


54  MADNESS    OF    THE 

of  man  shall  be  united  in  one  holy  brotherhood  ; 
and  there  shall  be  no  more  war,  no  more  oppres- 
sion and  cruelty,  no  sinning  and  no  woe.  So 
shall  the  crimson  stain  be  wiped  from  the  brow 
of  the  nations ;  and  the  lamb  and  the  dove  shall 
nestle  in  the  shadow  of  the  cross  —  their  peace- 
ful emblems.  Then  shall  the  strong  protect  the 
weak,  and  the  greatest  and  most  powerful  be- 
come voluntary  servants  of  the  lowly ;  for  the 
highest  type  of  greatness  will  be  to  benefit 
mankind.  This  is  no  poetical  illusion  —  no  fair 
Utopian  fancy ;  nor  even  a  half-formed  expecta- 
tion based  on  man's  weak  reason.  The  believ- 
ing child  knows  as  certainly  as  he  knows  there 
is  a  God  in  heaven,  that  the  mission  enterprise 
cannot  fail  until  it  usher  in  that  Sabbath  of 
the  world — the  Christian  Jubilee.  And  he 
knows  that  in  that  day  of  Eden  purity,  and 
more  than  Eden  elevation,  when  the  lamb  and 
the  lion  shall  lie  down  together,  and  HOLINESS 
shall  be  inscribed  even  on  the  bells  of  the  horses 
—  when  the  empire  of  the  Son  of  God  shall 
extend  'from  sea  to  sea,  and  from  the  rivers 
unto  the  ends  of  the  earth '  —  there  will  be  in 
the  history  of  the  past  no  brighter  page  than  the 


MISSIONARY    ENTERPRISE.  55 

humble  tracery  of  these  small  beginnings.  And 
when,  at  last,  the  heavens  are  rolled  together 
as  a  scroll,  and  the  earth  disappears  from  among 
her  sister  planets,  the  fruits  of  this  enterprise 
shall  give  richness  to  the  bloom  of  heaven ;  and, 
transmuted  to  enduring  jewels,  shall  glow  with 
resplendent  brilliancy  in  the  crown  of  man's 
Redeemer. 


SONG   OF   MAULMAIN. 

PLY  the  lever,  pioneers  ! 
Many  a  waiting  angel  cheers  ; 
Christ  above  is  interceding, 
Here  the  Holy  Ghost  is  pleading, 

And  the  promise  of  Jehovah 

Stands  upon  His  blessed  book. 
Cheerly,  cheerly  ply  the  lever ! 
Pause  not  —  faint  not  —  falter  never ! 
Course  the  river,  thrid  the  alley, 
From  the  hill-top  to  the  valley, 

Go  this  barren  border  over, 
Scattering  seed  in  every  nook. 

Gifted  with  a  little  wing, 
Far  the  seed  shall  float  and  spring,  — 
Spring  and  bloom  in  Burmah's  centre, 
Till  life-giving  fragrance  enter 


SONG    OF    MAULMAIN.  57 

Even  the  sacred  groves  of  Boodha, 

And  the  monarch's  golden  hall. 
Plant  the  seed,  and  ply  the  lever ! 
Pause  not — faint  not  —  falter  never! 
With  a  trusting  heart  and  humble. 
Toil  till  Boodha's  throne  shall  crumble, 
Monastery  and  pagoda 

Reel  before  the  Cross,  and  fall. 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  MAIZEEN. 


'  Is  he  not  beautiful,  my  lord  ?  ' 

The  speaker  was  a  shy,  girlish-looking  crea- 
ture, numbering,  probably,  some  sixteen  cycles  ; 
and,  though  her  cheek  and  brow  had  a  swarthy 
hue,  and  her  brilliant  black  eye  glowed  with  a 
restless,  wild  uncertainty  of  expression,  she  was 
yet  lavishly  gifted  with  both  grace  and  beauty. 
She  wore  over  her  shoulders  a  clumsy,  bag-like 
tunic,  so  profusely  ornamented  with  jungle 
seeds,  glass  beads,  and  the  wings  of  the  golden- 
green  beetle,  as  to  conceal  the  original  fabric  of 
blue  cotton.  Her  round,  bare  arms,  were  deco- 
rated with  a  variety  of  fantastic  bracelets  ;  and 
from  the  knot,  into  which  her  shining  black 
hair  was  gathered,  floated  the  rich  golden 
panicles  of  the  flowery  cassia.  Her  little  henna- 
tipped  fingers  were  busily  employed  in  wreath- 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    MAIZEEN.  59 

ing  chaplets,  necklaces,  anklets  and  bracelets,  of 
the  rosy  white  blossoms  gathered  from  a  neigh- 
boring clerodendron  tree,  with  which  she  deco- 
rated the  unshapely  person  of  a  tawny  infant, 
sleeping  at  her  knee. 

'  Is  he  not  beautiful,  my  lord  ? '  she  asked, 
clapping  her  hands  in  childish  admiration,  after 
having  given  to  the  sylvan  costume  of  her  child 
what  she  evidently  considered  the  finishing 
touches. 

1  My  lord  '  *  was  a  dark,  rough,  bristly-bearded 
man,  of  middle  age,  unmistakeably  Karen  in 
feature,  though  wearing  the  Burmese  dress,  and 
with  it  the  haughty  expression  of  countenance, 
characteristic  of  the  latter  race.  His  exterior 
gave  but  little  promise  of  sympathy  with  the 
flutterings  of  the  young  mother's  heart,  a  fact 
of  which  she  seemed  fully  aware,  for  even  in 
her  gladness  she  asked  the  question  with  averted 

*This  title  is  indefinite  in  the  degree  of  honor  which  it 
signifies ;  being  sometimes  addressed  to  royalty,  and  some- 
times conveying  so  little  reverence,  as  to  be  better  translated 
Sir.  It  is  seldom  used  by  a  wife  in  addressing  her  husband, 
unless  there  is  some  great  difference  in  rank,  or  she  is  kept  in 
unusual  subjection. 


60  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    MAIZEEN. 

i 

eye.  The  appeal,  however,  was  to  a  father's 
pride,  and  he  looked  at  the  little  brown  bundle 
of  flesh,  and  smiled,  at  first  admiringly,  then 
with  a  singular  expression  of  contemplative 
tenderness,  of  which  his  stern  features  were 
capable,  but  which  they  seldom  wore. 

'  What  is  it  ?  '  asked  the  young  wife,  appre- 
hensively. '  Is  anything  the  matter  with  him  ?  ' 

The  father  smiled  again,  a  curious  smile, 
mixed  up  of  different  expressions,  the  most 
prominent  of  which  was  a  lordly  appreciation 
of  his  own  superior  wisdom  ;  while  the  anxious 
little  mother  dropped  her  flowers  upon  the  bank, 
and  repeated  the  question,  —  'Is  anything  the 
matter  with  him  ?  ' 

'  Nothing  that  you  will  ever  see,  my  bright 
little  Mango-bird ;  so  keep  on  singing,  while  the 
sun  shines.' 

'But  —  but,'  she  stammered,  'if  anything 
should  be  the  matter  with  our  boy  — ' 

The  stern  man  turned  to  a  clump  of  thorny 
bamboos,  gracefully  mantled  by  the  beautiful 
Rangoon  creeper,  and  gathering  a  handful  of 
milk-white  blossoms,  completed  the  toilet  of  the 
child. 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    MAIZEEN.  61 

'Beautiful!  beautiful!'  exclaimed  the  young 
mother,  quite  as  much  delighted  with  her  hus- 
band's condescension,  as  the  effects  of  his  skill. 

'  Beautiful,  and  stainless,  too,'  was  the  re- 
sponse, '  but  —  ah,  you  will  not  understand,  my 
pretty  Mimosa ;  and  why  should  you  ? ' 

'  I  should  like  to  understand,  my  lord,'  and 
the  dark  eyes  were  lifted  to  his,  with  a  deep, 
questioning  wonder,  behind  which  seemed  to 
lurk  some  scarcely  defined  purpose. 

The  husband,  however,  remarked  nothing 
unusual. 

'  Well,  Mimosa,  you  know  that  when  the  sun 
is  up,  the  blossoms  will  be  stained,  and  so  — 
our  blossom? 

The  woman  answered  by  an  absorbed,  search- 
ing gaze. 

'  And  at  evening  they  will  be  crimson.' 

'  Must  it  be  so,  my  lord  ?  ' 

'  Is  it  not  always  ?  ' 

1  What  can  we  do  ? ' 

'  Nothing.' 

The  young  wife  looked  disappointed.  Sev- 
eral times  she  opened  her  lips,  as  though  to 
speak,  but  seemed  to  doubt  the  wisdom  of  her 


62  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    MAIZEEN. 

purpose ;  and  that  strange,  fitful  light  glanced 
more  fitfully  than  ever  from  her  bright  eye. 
Finally,  she  leaned  over  her  sleeping  child,  with 
a  restless  sort  of  anxiety,  taking  up,  one  by  one, 
the  symbolic  blossoms,  and  breathing  on  them, 
while  the  stern  husband  stood  watching  her 
movements,  with  an  air  of  amused  interest. 

'  You  see  that  the  poison  is  in  you,  Mimosa,' 
he  said  at  length  ;  '  your  breath  stains  the  pretty 
blossoms,  and  withers  them,  too,'  and  he  glanced 
expressively  at  the  child. 

The  woman  made  no  answer,  but  she  bent 
still  lower,  and  the  struggle,  whatever  it  might 
be,  that  was  going  on  in  her  spirit,  seemed 
almost  to  convulse  her  slight  frame.  The  hus- 
band regarded  her  in  absolute  amazement. 

'  My  poor  little  Mynah,'  he  at  length  said, 
coaxingly  ;  '  the  cage  is  very  dark,  but  there  is 
no  use  in  beating  the  bars,  and  spoiling  its 
pretty  wings.  Who  thought  a  word  would 
ruffle  its  plumage  so  ?  —  there  —  there ! ' 

The  struggle  was  over ;  and  the  woman  lifted 
her  head  with  an  air  of  calm  determination. 

«  My  lord,  there  is  at  Maulmain  city  a  white 
foreigner,  who  teaches  that  the  stain  may  be 
removed.' 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    MAIZEEN.  63 

The  dark  brows  of  the  husband  were  suddenly 
contracted,  and  a  fierce  glance  shot  from  his 
stern  eyes  ;  but  it  was  with  a  quiet,  steady  voice 
that  he  asked,  '  Who  told  you  of  him,  Mynah  ?  ' 

'  My  lord ! '  exclaimed  the  poor  wife,  depre- 
catingly. 

'  Who  told  you  ? '  the  husband  repeated,  with- 
out elevating  his  voice,  but  with  a  deadly  mean- 
ing in  its  cold  monotone,  which  struck  a  forlorn 
hopelessness  to  the  heart  of  that  timid  young 
creature,  whose  very  life  depended  on  his  nod. 

She,  however,  raised  her  head  with  some  faint 
show  of  courage,  and  answered,  '  I  heard  it  in 
my  father's  house,  on  the  other  side  of  the  great 
Salwen.' 

'  Well,  Mimosa,  you  are  not  in  your  father's 
house  now,  nor  do  you  tread  the  white  man's 
territory ;  and,  mark  me ! '  he  said,  rising  and 
folding  his  swart  arms  across  his  brawny  chest, 
from  this  moment,  you  will  forget  that  a  word 
of  this  abominable  heresy  has  ever  entered  your 
ears,  or,'  with  a  deeper,  sterner  intonation,  '  that 
your  meddling  finger  has  ever  touched  their 
writing.  You  hear,  woman  ! ' 

The  young  wife,  like  all  her  race,  who  have 


64  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    MAIZEEN. 

not  been  educated  out  of  the  national  charac- 
teristic, was  in  general  docile  and  submissive ; 
but  she  evidently  had  some  strong  purpose  at 
her  heart,  a  settled  determination  to  bring  the 
subject  she  had  dared  present  to  her  husband  to 
some  distinct  issue.  At  the  last  word,  fiercely 
spoken,  she  sprang  to  her  feet,  and  confronted 
the  angry  man,  with  her  whole  frame  quivering, 
and  her  eye  blazing  with  the  intensity  of  con- 
tending emotions. 

'  What  would  you  do,  my  lord,'  she  asked,  in 
a  clear,  ringing  voice,  '  if  I  were  to  become  a 
Christian?' 

»  Kill  you.' 

The  woman  smiled  drearily,  sat  down,  and 
drew  her  baby  to  her  bosom. 

'  "Why  did  you  ask  such  a  terrible  question, 
Mimosa?'  inquired  the  husband,  after  a  little 
pause. 

'  Because,'  she  answered,  with  a  short  laugh, 
which  might  have  been  simply  the  overflowing 
of  a  careless  heart,  or,  coupled  with  the  words, 
had  something  of  mockery  in  it,  <  because  it  is 
pleasant  to  know.' 

The   husband  was  uncomfortable ;   perhaps 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    MAIZEEN  65 

suspicious.  He  glanced  about  him  for  a  new 
subject,  and  finally  his  eye  fell  upon  the  round, 
taper  arm,  sparkling  with  most  incongruous  or- 
naments. '  What  is  that  odd  bracelet,  Mimosa, 
you  wear  of  late  ? ' 

*  A  charm,  my  lord.' 

Something  unusual  seemed  to  arrest  the  wo- 
man's attention  as  she  spoke,  for  she  peered  for 
a  moment  into  the  forest,  then  catching  up  the 
infant,  bounded  away. 

'Fool!  to  be  frightened  by  the  silly  thing,' 
muttered  the  husband,  following  her  airy  flight 
with  admiring  eyes.  '  A  charm,  indeed !  That 
is  not  like  becoming  a  Christian  !  Oh,  why  are 
there  no  wise  men,  no  reasoners,  no  subtle  phi- 
losophers, among  my  poor  countrymen  ?  Why 
must  they  go  flocking  after  every  new  thing 
that  rises,  like  silly  pigeons  to  the  snare?' 

The  Karen  chief  had  been  educated  as  a 
Boodhistic  priest,  in  a  Burmese  monastery ;  and 
had  brought  to  his  uncultivated  jungle  home 
some  of  the  worst  characteristics  of  the  people 
among  whom  he  had  spent  his  early  days. 
Whatever  there  might  have  been  kindly  in  his 
original  disposition,  it  was  completely  swept 
5 


66  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    MAIZEEN. 

under,  by  the  haughty  fierceness  in  which  he 
now  encased  himself,  as  an  armor.  To  those 
who  ministered  to  his  pleasures,  and  made 
themselves  the  slaves  of  his  will,  he  was  suf- 
ficiently condescending  and  indulgent ;  but  woe 
to  that  man  who  dared,  even  in  opinion,  to  cross 
his  track.  He  was,  also,  whether  from  pride, 
or  religious  principle,  exceedingly  bigoted  ;  and 
though  he  could  smile,  with  pitying  contempt, 
on  '  charms,'  and  other  superstitions  of  his  de- 
graded countrymen,  he  could  not  brook  the  bare 
mention  of  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ.  Only  a 
little  while  previous  to  the  commencement  of 
our  story,  a  boat-load  of  Burmese  Christians, 
who  had  diverged  from  the  Salwen  to  the  Bur- 
mese side,  for  the  purpose  of  following  up  the 
Maizeen  rivulet,  had  been  insulted,  and  ordered 
away  from  his  village.  Still  later,  a  poor  Ka- 
ren, with  a  bundle  of  tracts  hidden  in  his  rice- 
basket,  had  been  caught,  and  severely  flogged 
before  the  assembled  villagers. 

It  was  on  the  day  that  the  Burman  boat  had 
been  sent  away,  that  the  pretty  young  wife  of 
the  chief  wandered  down  the  stream,  with  an 
old  white-haired  man,  who  had  accompanied 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    MAIZEEN.  67 

her  from  her  father's  house,  and  been  always  in 
her  confidence. 

*  And  you  are  sure,  Pooluah,  that  my  father 
has  embraced  this  religion?' 

'  Sure,  my  lady.' 

4  And  you,  Pooluah  ?' 

The  old  man  hesitated.  He  was  something 
of  a  courtier ;  but  that  might  not  have  been  his 
only  reason  for  answering,  '  It  is  better  that  my 
lady  examine  for  herself.  Old  Pooluah  is  her 
follower.' 

1  Was  that  the  reason  you  taught  me  to  read 
Burmese  —  that  I  might  examine  for  myself? 
Did  you  think  of  it  then,  when  I  used  to  lead 
you  such  a  wild  race  through  the  paddy-fields  ? 
Ah,  Pooluah,  he  calls  me,  when  he  is  fondest, 
his  mynah,  and  it  is  true.  I  am  a  poor  caged 
mynah  now,  and  shall  never  fly  again.' 

The  old  man  sighed ;  and  they  both  relapsed 
into  sad,  musing  silence. 

4  My  lady,'  said  Pooluah,  at  length,  peering 
down  the  river,  '  what  is  that,  yonder,  like  a 
little  foam-curl  on  the  water,  there  by  the  roots 
of  the  nodding  clerodendron  ?' 

4  A  cluster  of  blossoms,  I  think ;  or  it  may 


68  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    MAIZEEN. 

be '  and  without  waiting  for  further  specu- 
lation, she  tripped  away  to  the  spot  indicated. 
Poising  herself  on  the  twisted  roots  of  the  clero- 
dendron,  she  grasped  a  branch  with  one  hand, 
and  leaning  far  over,  she  was  just  able  to  secure 
with  the  other  the  object  of  the  old  man's  curi- 
osity. 

'  A  writing !  a  writing  ! '  she  shouted,  forget- 
ting all  caution  in  her  sudden  delight,  and 
flourishing  her  prize  aloft.  But,  at  that  mo- 
ment, her  foot  slipped;  the  bough  by  which 
she  steadied  herself,  swept  across  her  face,  she 
felt  herself  seized  and  dragged  upon  the  bank 
by  a  stronger  arm  than  that  of  her  age-enfeebled 
attendant,  and  saw,  as  she  opened  her  eyes,  the 
frowning  face  of  her  husband  bending  over  her. 

'  Did  you  mean  to  drown  yourself,  Mimosa  ? ' 
he  asked,  in  a  tone  of  suppressed  anger. 

'  I  might  possibly  have  bathed  my  foot,'  the 
woman  answered,  with  affected  carelessness, 
though  visibly  shuddering  as  she  spoke.  She 
had  been  fully  aware,  even  in  the  confusion 
occasioned  by  her  slight  accident,  that  there 
was  more  of  fierceness  and  roughness  in  her 
husband's  mode  of  saving  her,  than  the  danger 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    MAIZEEN.  69 

seemed  to  warrant ;  and  she  was,  moreover, 
conscious  of  the  writing's  having  been  wrench- 
ed from  her  hand  and  flung  into  the  rivulet. 

The  husband  and  wife  walked  back  to  the 
village  together.  A  couple  of  fishermen  had 
just  moved  their  little  boat  beside  the  clump  of 
bamboos,  and  the  chief  beckoned  one  of  them 
with  his  hand. 

*  Ho,  Pantalay ! ' 

The  man  came  forward,  crouching  with  the 
customary  reverence,  and  squatted  respectfully 
at  the  chieftain's  feet. 

'  What  was  that  you  were  telling  me,  yester- 
day, of  the  golden  book  ? ' 

'My  lord!'  exclaimed  the  poor  man,  with  a 
look  of  terror. 

The  chief  made  an  impatient  gesture ;  but 
the  man's  stupidity  was  incorrigible. 

'  My  lord  commanded  —  he  —  he  said  the  tale 
was  false  and  idle.' 

The  Mimosa  smiled  involuntarily ;  and  the 
angry  chief  raised  his  hand  as  though  to  strike 
the  stammering  offender.  He  did  not  strike, 
however,  but  only  reiterated,  '  What  was  it, 
Pantalay  ? ' 


70  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    MAIZEEN. 

The  poor  fellow  began  deprecatingly  to  repeat 
the  tale  which  only  the  day  before  he  had  been 
ordered  never  to  think  of  again.  The  substance 
of  it  was  that  a  boatman  from  the  lower  province 
of  Tavoy  had  reported  the  arrival  of  a  white 
teacher  there,  who,  by  the  help  of  a  Karen 
man  he  had  bewitched,  was  scattering  strange 
writings  through  the  jungle.  He  also  averred 
that  a  golden  book  had  fallen  down  from 
heaven,  threatening  the  direst  vengeance  on  all 
who  presumed  to  read,  or  even  touch  these 
writings. 

'  What  vengeance,  Pantalay?' 

'They  —  they  shall  be  haunted  by  demons, 
while  they  sleep  and  when  they  wake.  The 
women  shall  be  childless,  or  bear  monsters,  and 
the  men  shall  be  devoured  by  tigers  on  the  land, 
and  by  alligators  on  the  water.' 

'  That  will  do,  Pantalay.' 

The  chief  evidently  felt  that  there  had  been 
a  failure  in  the  poor  fisherman's  mode  of  telling 
the  tale ;  but  still  it  was  not  without  its  effect 
on  the  timid  Mimosa. 

A  few  days  after  this  event,  the  poor  Karen 
book-bearer  was  apprehended  and  whipped  ;  and 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    MAIZEEN.  71 

then  crawled  away  into  the  jungle,  some  said, 
to  die.  Only  old  Pooluah,  and  his  gentle-hearted 
mistress,  knew  of  a  small  cave  among  the 
craggy  heights  beyond  the  village,  where  the 
poor  fellow  was  nursed  until  his  wounds  were 
healed,  and  he  was  able  to  make  his  escape 
over  to  the  English  side  of  the  Salwen.  Even 
the  Mimosa  herself  had  found  means  to  visit 
him,  and  he  had  told  her  all  he  knew  of  the 
Christian  religion.  His  knowledge  was  very 
limited  indeed ;  but  in  nothing  is  the  loving 
kindness  of  our  Heavenly  Father  more  beauti- 
fully displayed,  than  in  the  simplicity  of  the 
doctrines  which  lead  to  salvation.  A  theme 
which  the  angels  around  the  blazing  throne  have 
not  yet  fully  comprehended,  is  so  completely 
adapted  to  our  human  wants,  that  the  weakest 
capacity  —  nay,  even  the  lowest,  and  most  ani- 
malized  nature,  needs  but  the  influences  of  the 
Holy  Spirit  to  be  able  to  put  forth  a  saving 
faith.  Old  Pooluah  drank  in  the  truth  with  a 
simple  earnestness,  for  which  he  was  already 
prepared  by  the  visit  of  the  Christian  boatmen, 
as  well  as  by  hints  and  rumors  he  had  occasion- 
ally heard  before  he  followed  his  mistress  from 


72  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    MAIZEEN. 

her  old  home.  The  Mimosa,  with  stronger 
worldly  interests,  was  less  trustful  and  more 
cautious.  She  looked  at  her  child,  and  thought 
of  the  golden  book  with  its  terrible  maledic- 
tions ;  and,  though  she  had  sufficient  shrewd- 
ness to  understand  her  husband's  object,  in 
having  it  related  just  at  that  time,  she  still  felt 
strongly  impressed  by  it.  From  the  date  of  the 
visit  of  the  Burmese  boat,  which  her  husband 
had  ordered  so  peremptorily  from  the  village,  a 
thoughtful  seriousness  had  gradually  infused 
itself  into  her  spirit,  and  it  was  deepened  by 
every  interview  with  old  Pooluah3  and  still  more 
with  the  poor  Karen  fugitive.  A  little  tract,  an 
epitomized  '  View  of  the  Christian  Religion,' 
written  in  Burmese,  had  been  conveyed  to  her 
in  a  basket  of  flowers,  only  an  hour  before  the 
flogging  had  taken  place ;  and  this  she  had 
carefully  folded  together  in  a  deer-skin  case, 
elaborately  ornamented  with  wild  seeds,  and 
bound  it  on  her  arm  with  her  other  bracelets. 
It  was  the  safest  place  in  which  such  a  treasure 
could  be  hidden,  and  would  be  always  at  hand 
for  perusal.  This  was  the  odd  bracelet,  that,  at 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    MAIZEEN.  73 

such  an  inopportune  moment,  had  attracted  the 
attention  of  her  husband. 

'  A  charm,'  she  answered,  unhesitatingly,  to 
his  abrupt  question  ;  then,  terrified  at  her  dan- 
ger, ashamed  of  her  weakness,  and  conscious  of 
being  unable  to  sustain  farther  scrutiny,  she 
snatched  up  the  child,  and  hastened  away. 
Rapidly  she  sped  along,  not  venturing  to  look 
behind  to  ascertain  whether  she  was  pursued, 
now  pressing  through  thick  underbrush,  now 
mounting  some  flower-mantled  hillock,  and 
again  plashing  across  the  pretty  silver  runnels 
that  laced  the  wilderness,  till  she  had  left  a 
quarter  of  a  league  behind  her.  She  was  still 
hurrying  on,  when  a  familiar  voice  exclaimed, 
in  some  surprise,  '  My  lady ! '  It  was  old 
Pooluah,  who  was  returning  from  a  foraging  ex- 
pedition, his  withered  frame  more  than  usually 
bowed  beneath  the  heavy  bundle  of  fresh  herbs 
he  had  just  been  gathering. 

'  Has  anything  happened,  my  lady  ?  ' 

'  Happened !  no  ;  but  there  will  —  there  mustt 
and  I  almost  wish  it  would  come  now.' 

4  Look  to  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  my  lady.  He 


74  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    MAIZEEN. 

is  strong.  He  never  deserts  them  who  put  their 
trust  in  Him.' 

'  I  do  not  put  my  trust  in  Him,  Pooluah.  I 
am  not  a  Christian.  When  you  are  in  trouble, 
you  can  pray  like  the  poor  book-bearer,  and  your 
mind  becomes  cool  and  happy.  I  cannot.  I  do 
not  trust  Him.  I  shrink,  I  tremble,  and  dare 
not  even  tell  the  truth.' 

'  My  lady  — ' 

'  I  said  just  now,  Pooluah,  that  it  was  a  charm 
I  wore  upon  my  arm.  I  told  a  falsehood,  and 
all  from  fear.  I  am  a  poor,  timid  woman,  and 
I  can  never  be  a  Christian.' 

'  My  dear  lady,  you  are  sorely  tempted.  But 
try  —  try,  my  sweet  mistress,  to  bring  your 
trouble  to  the  Lord.  He  will  take  it  willingly. 
He  has  trodden  all  these  dark  ways,  and  he 
knows  every  step.  Cannot  you  trust  Him,  my 
lady  ? ' 

The  woman  shook  her  head.  '  I  am  a  poor, 
caged  mynah,  and  must  obey  my  keeper.  I 
thought  his  mind  was  softened,  Pooluah,  for  he 
talked  of  our  common  sin,  as  though  sorry  for 
it ;  so  I  ventured  to  tell  him  there  was  a  way 
of  escape,  and  he  was  —  oh,  so  angry!  If  it 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    MAIZEEN. 


75 


had  been  red  anger,  I  might  have  braved  it,  but 
it  was  the  white  heat,  that  emits  no  sparkles. 
He  says  he  will  kill  me,  if  I  become  a  Christian. 
I  am  young  to  die  —  and  the  grave  is  so  dark 
—  and  I  cannot  take  my  little  white-souled 
blossom  with  me,  if  I  could !  I  am  young  to 
die,  Pooluah.'  And  the  poor,  helpless  creature 
threw  herself  upon  the  sod,  and  wept  passion- 
ately. The  old  man  lowered  the  bundle  of 
herbs  from  his  head,  slid  the  heavy  satchel  from 
his  shoulder,  and  sat  down  beside  her. 

'  Old  Pooluah's  sun  is  almost  down,  my  lady, 
and  his  life  is  worth  but  little.  Would  that  it 
were  fresh  and  bright,  as  in  other  days,  and  he 
might  be  permitted  to  give  it  in  exchange  for 
thine.' 

'  I  know  you  love  me,  my  faithful  Pooluah  ; 
but  you  are  all.' 

*  The  Lord  Jesus  Christ  loves  you,  my  lady.' 

'  I  cannot  feel  it —  I  dare  not  think  of  it.  The 
way  is  dark,  dark.' 

'  He  gave  His  royal  limbs  to  the  torture,  and , 
His  body  to  the  tomb,  for  you,  my  lady.     It  is 
dark,  the  world  is  all  dark  ;  but  He  came  down 
from  glory,  and  waded  through  the  darkness  and 


76  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    MAIZEEN. 

the  sorrow,  for  you,  my  dear  lady,  for  you.  You 
think  old  Pooluah  is  faithful,  because  he  would 
not  keep  back  this  little  fragment  of  a  worn-out 
life  from  his  mistress'  service  —  the  Lord  gave 
all,  and  He  is  all-powerful.  Trust  in  Him,  my 
lady  —  lay  your  little  white-souled  blossom  on 
His  bosom  —  lay  your  sorrows  at  His  feet  —  and 
the  shadow  of  Death  itself  will  never  make  you 
afraid.' 

Thus,  in  a  low,  tender  tone,  as  a  mother  might 
soothe  her  frightened  infant,  the  old  man's  words 
mingled  with  the  passionate  sobbings  of  the 
young  matron,  and  settled,  like  a  healing  balsam, 
on  her  heart. 

4  But  I  denied  Him,  Pooluah ;  and  denied 
Him  insultingly.  I  said  it  was  a  charm  I 
wore  — ' 

'  It  was  in  a  moment  of  weakness,  my  lady  ; 
you  were  sorely  tempted.  Call  upon  the  Lord. 
He  is  a  pitying  Redeemer.  Ask  Him  to  forgive 
you,  to  strengthen  you,  to  support  you  in  the 
hour  of  trial,  and  when  the  way  is  all  dark,  look 
to  Him,  my  lady,  and  light  will  come.' 

From  the  day  of  this  conversation,  a  change 
began  to  be  perceptible  in  the  once  timid 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    MAIZEEN.  77 

Mimosa,  which  gradually  pervaded  her  entire 
character.  She  seemed,  by  degrees,  endowed 
with  a  sublime  courage,  a  spirit  like  that  of  the 
martyrs  of  old,  sufficient  to  buoy  her  above  all 
fear.  This  was  too  apparent  in  the  serene, 
elevated  expression  of  her  countenance,  and  her 
general  bearing,  to  escape  the  observation  of  the 
villagers ;  who  whispered  to  one  another  that 
she  had  probably  received  some  intelligence  from 
her  father,  which  enabled  her  to  brave  her  hus- 
band's more  than  suspected  tyranny.  But  the 
real  cause  of  the  transformation  was  not  long 
hidden.  Ashamed  of  the  falsehood,  which  she 
interpreted  into  a  denial  of  her  faith,  the  repent- 
ant young  believer  unbound  the  bracelet  from 
her  arm,  threw  the  deer-skin  case  into  the  river, 
and  sought  no  other  concealment  for  the  book 
than  one  of  the  hollow  bamboo  rafters  of  her 
dwelling  —  so  easy  of  access,  and  in  such  com- 
mon use,  as  to  be  a  mere  depository,  rather  than 
a  hiding-place.  But  this  was  not  all.  Defying 
all  the  cautions  of  the  faithful  Pooluah,  she 
began  whispering  the  glad  news  of  salvation 
among  the  villagers ;  and  so  much  was  she 
beloved,  and  the  fearful  vengeance  of  her  hus- 


78  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    MAIZEEN. 

band  so  much  dreaded,  that  even  the  most 
uncompromising  Boodhists  failed  to  betray  her. 
So  month  after  month  passed  by,  and  seasons 
came  and  went.  There  were  no  withering  leaves 
or  falling  snows  —  our  way-marks  through  the 
year  —  but  yet  the  circling  seasons  left  their 
footprints  on  the  tropic  jungle,  scarcely  less 
strongly  marked  than  on  our  rugged  shores. 

The  amber  sunlight  of  a  rich  October  day 
was  deepening  into  purple,  when  the  young 
jungle  matron  sat  watching  the  gambols  of  her 
boy,  and  musing  on  the  prospect  of  yet  another 
little  being,  which  might  ere  long  be  intrusted 
to  her  care  to  train  for  immortality.  Her  piety 
had  deepened  very  perceptibly  during  the  pass- 
ing year,  and  a  meek,  trustful  wisdom  had  grad- 
ually infused  itself  into  her  spirit,  softening  and 
ripening  her  whole  character.  The  little  book 
was  now  so  much  worn  by  frequent  use,  as  to 
be  in  many  places  illegible ;  but  the  truths  it 
contained  were  perfectly  familiar  to  the  young 
matron,  though  still  she  loved  to  read  them  from 
the  page  where  they  had  first  met  her  eye  and 
heart.  With  this  object,  she  took  the  book  from 
a  little  pocket  she  had  made  for  it  in  her  tunic, 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    MAIZEEN.  79 

and  was  soon  absorbed  in  its  contents.  She  was 
roused  by  a  rough  grasp  on  her  shoulder,  and  a 
voice  in  stern,  angry  accents,  exclaiming,  '  Wo- 
man !  woman  !  what  have  you  here  ? '  For 
a  moment  her  brain  reeled,  and  her  heart  grew 
faint ;  for  though  she  Wad  expected  an  hour  like 
this  to  come,  it  had  been  so  long  delayed,  that 
she  had  ceased  to  look  for  it  momentarily,  as  at 
first.  She,  however,  retained  sufficient  com- 
posure of  manner  to  answer,  though  somewhat 
tremulously,  'It  is  a  —  a  foreign  book,  my 
lord.' 

'  One  of  those  vile  books ' 

1  It  is  not  a  vile  book,'  interrupted  the  woman, 
dauntlesslj. 

'Which — which  I  commanded  you  not  to 
touch ! ' 

'  Should  I  not  obey  God  rather  than ' 

'  Silence,  babbler !  slave ! '  —  Then  smothering 
his  rage  again,  '  But  where  is  the  traitor  that 
dared  to  give  you  this  ?  ' 

'  I  had  it,  my  lord,  of  the  poor  fellow,  who  a 
year  ago  was  whipped  for  having  Christian 
books  in  his  rice-basket.' 

'  And  you  have  kept  it  ever  since  ?  ' 


80  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    MAIZEEN. 

'  I  have,  my  lord.' 

'  And  read  it?' 

'  I  have.' 

He  snatched  the  book  from  her  hand,  and 
tore  it  into  fragments. 

'  That  is  useless,  my  lord.  It  matters  little 
to  destroy  the  paper,  when  every  word  is  cut 
into  my  memory.' 

'  You  will  not  say  that  you  believe  that 
book  ? ' 

<  I  do.' 

'And  you  dare  tell  me  this!  —  that  you  are 
an  idiot  —  a  mountebank  —  a  —  a  — ' 

'  I  am  a  Christian,  my  lord.' 

The  stem  man  shook  with  concentrated 
passion ;  but  still  he  so  far  mastered  it,  as  to 
proceed  with  his  examination. 

*  Who  knows  you  are  —  what  you  say  ? ' 
The  woman  was  silent. 

'  Speak  !  I  command  you.' 
'  I  cannot  tell,  my  lord.' 
'What!  you  —  you  —  you  —  defy  me?' 
'  I  will  answer  all  questions  that  concern  my- 
self, my  lord,  but  farther  than  that,  I  cannot.' 

*  You  refuse,  then,  to  mention  your  accom- 
plices.' 


A    LEGEND    OP    THE    MAIZEEN.  81 

<  I  refuse  to  betray  my  friends.' 

The  brawny  arm  seemed  to  leap  into  the  air, 
with  the  quick  violence  of  overwhelming  rage, 
and  the  next  moment  the  courageous  young 
wife  lay  writhing  upon  the  earth,  a  crimson 
stream  gushing  from  her  distended  mouth. 
With  a  wild,  unearthly  cry,  which  drew  a  dozen 
villagers  to  the  spot,  the  strange  man  threw 
himself  beside  his  victim,  his  fierce  anger  in  a 
moment  yielding  to  the  still  more  terrific  fury  of 
his  grief. 

*  I  have  killed  her!  I  have  killed  her!  her  — 
my  golden  lily  —  my  bundle  of  musk!  I  have 
darkened  my  eyes !  I  have  torn  the  heart  from 
my  bosom!  I  am  a  murderer,  sinking  down  — 
down  —  down  to  the  lowest  hell.  Oh,  Mimosa ! 
my  beautiful,  pitying  Mimosa !  do  not  begin  the 
torments  now,  while  yet  thy  lip  is  warm  with 
life.  Speak  to  me!  oh  speak,  Mimosa!  I  meant 
not  to  strike.  It  was  the  demon  in  me,  and  not 
my  hand.  One  little  word  —  one  breath  —  my 
beautiful,  my  loved,  my  lost  Mimosa!'  And 
while,  with  all  the  energy  of  that  one  anguish- 
stricken  voice,  the  death-wail  rang  through  the 
jungle,  the  villagers,  awed  and  terrified,  dared 
6 


82  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    MAIZEEN. 

not  so  much  as  lay  a  finger  upon  the  murdered 
woman.  Old  Pooluah  was  the  last  to  reach 
the  spot.  With  one  deep,  heart-crushing  in- 
spiration, he  sprang  forward,  and  taking  his 
mistress  in  his  arms,  bore  her  to  the  shelter  of 
her  own  home. 

For  hours  there  was  a  faint  fluttering  of  the 
pulse,  and  an  occasional  tremulous  motion  of 
the  eyelids ;  but  that  was  all.  Old  Pooluah 
watched  beside  his  mistress,  and  two  or  three 
women  moved  noiselessly  about  the  room  ;  but 
the  husband  came  not,  all  through  the  dreary 
night  At  last,  when  the  first  ray  of  morning 
shot  through  the  open  door,  the  dying  Mimosa 
opened  wide  her  joyous  eyes. 

'  Pooluah  ! '  she  called. 

The  old  man  stooped  above  her. 

'  Dear,  faithful  Pooluah,  take  the  little  boy  to 
my  father,  and  tell  him  —  oh,  tell  him  how 
sweet  it  is  to  die.  Though  so  young,  and  so 
unworthy,  I  am  permitted  first  to  enter  the 
celestial  gate,  and  there  I  wait  both  you  and 
him.  How  beautiful !  how  glorious  ! ' 

With  that  rejoicing  smile  upon  her  lip,  the* 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    MAIZEEN.  83 

young  Christian  passed  away  —  slept  in  Jesus ; 
and  another  life  slept  with  her. 

The  stern  chief  never  returned  to  his  village, 

o    ' 

and  his  fate  was  never  clearly  known.  Some 
told  how,  on  the  night  of  the  direful  tragedy, 
a  party  of  boatmen  near  the  mouth  of  the 
Maizeen,  had  seen  a  crouching  figure  pass 
fleetly  as  a  shadow,  just  outside  their  circle  of 
camp-fires.  They  hailed  him,  but  received  no 
answer.  A  quarter  of  an  hour  afterwards,  a 
wild,  terrible  cry  of  mortal  agony  rang  from  the 
jungle,  and  with  trembling  hands  the  men 
brightened  their  watch-fires,  and  grasped  their 
spears,  and  so  sat  with  unclosed  eyes  till  morn- 
ing. As  the  dawn  advanced,  the  little  party 
gathered  more  courage  ;  and  finally,  fully  armed, 
ventured  forward  in  the  direction  of  the  cry. 
Parting  the  thick  boughs,  not  more  than  a 
hundred  rods  from  where  they  had  encamped, 
they  found  the  underbrush  crushed  and  trampled, 
and  the  sod  besmeared  with  gore.  A  small 
crimson  pool  had  settled  down  into  a  leafy  hol- 
low, and  a  muslin  turban,  torn  and  blood-stained, 
lay  at  a  little  distance  on  the  ground.  Remem- 
bering that  the  tiger  jyhich  has  once  tasted 


84  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    MAIZEEN. 

human  blood  is  never  satisfied  with  a  single 
victim,  the  men  returned  hastily  to  their  boat. 
The  more  sanguinary  of  the  villagers,  as  they 
told  this  story,  were  wont  to  illustrate  its  mean- 
ing and  application  with  expressive  glances  and 
gestures,  though  they  never  by  words  indicated 
any  positive  suspicion  as  to  the  victim. 

Then  some  gentle  spirit  would  take  up  the 
tale,  and  describe  a  bent,  hollow-eyed,  witless 
man,  who  haunted  the  suburbs  and  lanes  of 
Martaban,  muttering  to  himself  continually, 
and  appearing  startled  when  overheard,  as 
though  he  had  betrayed  some  secret.  It  was 
remarked  that  he  dwelt  with  strange  pertinacity 
on  one  word,  which  might  be  a  name,  since  he 
whispered  it  so  beseechingly,  by  the  hour  to- 
gether; but  those  persons  who  were  curious 
enough  to  listen,  were  surprised  to  learn  that  he 
only  addressed  a  pretty  plant,  such  as  is  often 
found  in  the  neighborhood  of  deserted  monas- 
teries, and  the  leaves  of  which  arc  wont  to 
shrivel  and  fall  to  the  ground  at  the  slightest 
touch.  Then  the  narrator  would  look  into  the 
incredulous  faces  of  the  propagators  of  the 
tiger-tale,  and  nod  his  he^l  significantly,  and  say 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    MAIZEEN.  85 

what  an  odd  fancy  it  was  that  the  chief  should 
have  named  his  pretty  wife  Mimosa. 

Sometimes  a  singular  story  of  a  sound  man 
herding  with  lepers,  and  voluntarily  performing 
the  most  menial  offices  of  the  community,  was 
darkly  hinted  at.  And  there  was  yet  another 
tale  afloat,  of  a  hermit-priest,  who  inhabited 
the  beautiful  little  gem  of  an  island  in  the 
Sal  wen,  known  as  Goungzakyoon.  But  the 
narratives  relating  to  this  last  named  personage 
were  of  a  shifting,  mythic  order;  and  as  they 
were  put  forth  by  the  more  bigoted  of  the 
Boodhistic  party,  they  obtained  but  little  cre- 
dence from  the  greater  number  of  the  Karens. 


NOTE.  —  The  recorder  of  the  above  legend  does  not 
vouch  for  its  accuracy ;  none  of  the  particulars  having 
come  under  the  personal  observation  of  the  friend  from 
whom  she  received  it.  As  a  story  quite  current  among 
the  early  Karen  Christians,  however,  and  neither  unnatural 
nor  improbable  in  its  general  features,  (though  the  principal 
characters  are  certainly  more  Burmese  than  Karen,)  it 
bears  the  stamp  of  truth.  The  writer,  in  giving  the  rela- 
tion an  English  dress,  has  taken  the  liberty  to  divest  it  of 
some  of  the  childish  mysteries  which  cluster  around  it, 
and  to  reduce  it,  as  far  as  possible,  to  the  order  of  a  simple 
narrative. 


THE   JUNGLE   BOY. 

MANY  years  ago,  a  lady  sat  in  the  verandah 
of  her  Burmese  bungalow,  endeavoring  to  deci- 
pher the  scarcely  legible  characters  of  a  palm-leaf 
book,  which  lay  in  all  its  awkwardness  upon 
the  table  before  her.  A  beautiful  beetle,  with 
just  gold  enough  on  his  bright  green  wings  to 
distinguish  him  from  the  glossy  leaves  of  the 
Cape  Jasmine,  which  grew  close  by  the  balus- 
trade, was  balancing  himself  upon  one  of  the 
rich  white  blossoms  that  filled  the  whole  air 
with  their  fragrance;  while  a  gay-plumaged 
bird,  with  a  strange  sort  of  a  feathery  coronal 
upon  his  head,  was  making  himself  busy  among 
the  rank  grass  beyond.  Still  farther  on,  a  long- 
necked  chamelion  clung  to  the  trunk  of  a  guava 
tree,  throwing  back  his  snake-like  head,  and 
darting  his  inquisitive  ^ttle  eyes  about  very 


THE    JUNGLE    BOY.  87 

suspiciously ;  a  green-coated  robber  of  a  parrot 
nestled  among  the  fruit  and  foliage  above  ;  and 
below,  and  all  around,  a  whole  school  of  crows 
flapped  their  black  wings,  and  wheeled,  and 
fluttered,  and  cawed,  with  amazing  industry  and 
volubility.  It  is  in  vain  to  try  to  enumerate  the 
lady's  strange  visitors,  but  they  were  such  as 
any  of  you  might  see  of  a  bright  morning  in 
Burmah,  and  very  attractive  you  would  find 
them  —  much  more  attractive,  I  have  no  doubt, 
than  the  long  palm-leaf  books,  all  smeared  with 
oil,  to  make  their  circular  scratches  legible. 
From  a  little  bamboo  shelter  —  a  curious  thatch- 
ed roof  set  upon  poles,  just  beyond  the  high, 
uncropped  hedge,  and  dignified  by  the  name  of 
schoolhouse — came  a  sound  of  mingled  voices, 
very  cheerful,  very  earnest,  and,  to  stranger  ears, 
about  as  intelligible  as  the  cawing  of  the  crows. 
But  the  lady  understood  it  all ;  and  it  told  her 
that  her  native  schoolmaster  was  doing  his  duty, 
and  his  tawny  pupils  making  some  proficiency 
in  the  them-bong  gyee,  or  a-b,  ab  talk.  Kah  gyee 
yd,  ka  —  kali  gyee  yd  kya,  k'dh  —  kali  gyee  yd 
long-  gyee  ten,  ke  —  kali  gyee  yd  long  gyee  ten 
san  cat,  kce,  came  the,  confused  sounds  —  a  very 


88  THE    JUNGLE    BOY. 

circuitous  way  of  saying  k-a,  ka  —  k-e,  ke, — 
'  Don't  you  think  so  ?  ' 

As  the  lady  bent  over  her  book,  a  little  more 
wearily  than  in  the  freshness  of  the  morning, 
and  made  a  renewed  effort  to  fix  her  eyes  on 
the  dizzying  circles,  a  strange  looking  figure 
bounded  through  the  opening  in  the  hedge 
which  served  as  a  gateway,  and  rushing  toward 
her,  with  great  eagerness  inquired,  '  Does  Jesus 
Christ  live  here  ? ' 

He  was  a  boy,  perhaps  twelve  years  of  age ; 
his  coarse  black  hair  unconfined  by  the  usual 
turban,  matted  with  filth,  and  bristling  in  every 
direction  like  the  quills  of  a  porcupine ;  and  a 
very  dirty  cloth  of  plaided  cotton  disposed  in 
the  most  slovenly  manner  about  his  person. 

'Does  Jesus  Christ  live  here?'  he  inquired, 
scarcely  pausing  for  breath,  though  slackening 
his  pace  a  little  as  he  made  his  way,  uninvited, 
up  the  steps  of  the  verandah,  and  crouched  at 
the  lady's  feet. 

'  What  do  you  want  of  Jesus  Christ  ? '  in- 
quired the  lady. 

'  I  want  to  see  him  —  I  want  to  confess  to 
him.' 


THE    JUNGLE    BOY. 


89 


'  Why,  what  have  you  been  doing,  that  you 
want  to  confess  ? ' 

'  Does  lie  live  here?' — with  great  emphasis, 
— '  I  want  to  know  that.  Doing!  Why,  I  tell 
lies,  I  steal,  I  do  everything  bad  —  I  am  afraid 
of  going  to  hell,  and  I  want  to  see  Jesus  Christ, 
for  I  heard  one  of  the  Loo-g-yees  *  say  that  he 
can  save  us  from  hell.  Does  he  live  here  ? 
Oh,  tell  me  where  I  can  find  Jesus  Christ.' 

'  But  he  does  not  save  people  from  hell,  if 
they  continue  to  do  wickedly.' 

'  I  want  to  stop  doing  wickedly,  but  I  can't 
stop  —  I  don't  know  how  to  stop  —  the  evil 
thoughts  are  in  me,  and  the  bad  deeds  come  of 
evil  thoughts.  What  can  I  do  ?  ' 

'  Nothing,  but  come  to  Christ,  poor  boy, 
like  all  the  rest  of  us,'  the  lady  softly  mur- 
mured ;  but  she  spoke  this  last  in  English,  so 
the  boy  orily  raised  his  head  with  a  vacant,  — 
'  B'  ha-lai  ? ' 

'  You  cannot  see  Jesus  Christ  now  — ' 

She  was  interrupted  by  a  sharp  quick  cry  of 
despair. 

*  Chief  men. 


90  THE    JUNGLE    BOY. 

'  But  I  am  his  humble  friend  and  follower'  — 

The  face  of  the  listener  brightened  a  little. 

'  And  he  has  commissioned  me  to  teach  all 
those  who  wish  to  escape  from  hell,  how  to  do 
so.' 

The  joyful  eagerness  depicted  in  the  poor 
boy's  countenance,  was  beyond  description. 
'  Tell  me  —  oh  tell  me!  Only  ask  your  Master 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  to  save  me,  and  I  will  be 
your  servant,  your  slave,  for  life.  Do  not  be 
angry  !  Do  not  send  me  away  !  I  want  to  be 
saved  —  saved  from  hell ! ' 

The  lady,  you  will  readily  believe,  was  not 
likely  to  be  angry.  Even  the  person  who  told 
me  the  story  many  years  after,  was  more  than 
once  interrupted  by  his  own  choking  tears. 

The  next  day  a  new  pupil  was  welcomed  to 
the  little  bamboo  schoolhouse,  in  the  person  of 
the  wild  Karen  boy  ;  for  no  missionary  having 
yet  been  sent  especially  to  that  people,  they 
received  all  their  religious  instructions  through 
the  medium  of  the  Burmese  language.  And 
oh,  such  a  greedy  seeker  after  truth  and  holiness ! 
Every  day  he  came  to  the  white  teachers  to 
learn  something  more  concerning  the  Lord  Jesus 


THE    JUNGLE    BOY. 


91 


Christ,  and  the  way  of  salvation  ;  and  every  day 
his  mind  seemed  to  open,  his  feelings  to  enlarge, 
and  his  face  to  lose  some  portion  of  that  inde- 
scribable look  of  stupidity  which  characterizes 
the  uncultivated  native. 

In  due  time,  a  sober  band  of  worshippers 
gathered  around  the  pool  in  the  little  hollow  by 
the  bridge,  to  witness  a  solemn  baptism ;  then 
a  new  face  was  seen  among  those  who  came  ,to 
commemorate  the  dying  love  of  the  Lord  Jesus ; 
and  a  new  name  was  written  on  the  church 
records. 

Years  passed  away.  Death  had  laid  his  hand 
upon  the  gentle  lady,  and  she  had  gone  up  to 
that  sweet  home  where  pain  and  sorrow  are 
unknown,  and  where  '  the  weary  are  at  rest.' 
On  earth,  another  death  scene  was  enacting.  A 
strong,  dark-browed  man  tossed  wildly  on  his 
fevered  couch  in  an  agony  of  physical  suffering ; 
but  even  then  his  unconscious  lips  murmured 
continually  those  precious  fragments  of  scripture 
which  he  had  treasured  up  in  days  of  health. 
At  last  there  came  a  fearful  struggle  — then  the 
convulsed  features  relaxed,  the  ghastliness  of 
death  settled  upon  them,  and  the  spirit  seemed 


92  THE    JUNGLE    BOY. 

to  have  taken  its  flight.  Suddenly,  however, 
the  countenance  of  the  dying  man  was  lighted 
with  a  heavenly  radiance,  his  lips  parted  with  a 
smile,  his  eye  emitted  a  single  joyful  flash, 
before  it  turned  cold  and  motionless  forever ;  and 
then  the  wild  boy  of  the  jungle  was  welcomed 
by  his  waiting  angel-guide,  to  the  presence  of 
that  Saviour  whom  he  had  sought  with  such 
eagerness. 


TRIBUTE  TO  REV.   DANIEL  HASCALL. 

Lo !  with  a  solemn  tread, 

The  mourning  train  sweep  by, 
Bearing  the  sainted  dead, 

To  where  his  loved  ones  lie ; 
Down  in  his  bed  of  clay, 

They  lay  him  to  his  rest, 
The  sun-light  shut  away, 

And  the  clod  upon  his  breast. 

Will  they  the  marble  bring  ?  — 

Nay,  look  around  and  see 
How  many  a  nobler  thing 

His  monument  shall  be. 
Behold  yon  classic  walls,* 

Embalmed  in  love  and  prayer, 
Pause  in  the  shadowy  halls,  — 

His  monument  is  there  ! 

*  In  the  year  1817,  Mr.  Hascall  commenced  a  theological 
school  in  the  village  of  Hamilton,  N.  Y.,  with  the  two  mis- 


94  TRIBUTE    TO    REV.    DANIEL    HASCALL. 

And  with  enduring  art, 

Is  sculptured  his  fair  fame, 
Upon  each  living  heart, 

That  thrills  beneath  his  name. 
Where  waves  the  tropic  palm, 

Where  ice-bound  fir-trees  grow, 
'Mid  island  groves  of  balm, 

'Mid  northern  wilds  of  snow, 

Tho'  his  name  be  never  heard, 

The  deeds  of  love  he 's  wrought, 
Are  told  in  every  word, 

Are  mirrored  in  each  thought ; 
While  angels  stooping  down, 

On  fondly  fluttering  wing, 
Pluck  jewels  for  the  crown 

Of  our  Eternal  King. 

Those  jewels  saved  in  heaven, 

And  the  garnered  prayers  and  tears, 

All  good  for  which  he 's  striven, 
Through  weary,  toilsome  years  ; 


sionaries,  Wade  and  Kincaid,  for  his  first  pupils.  The  school, 
which  has  now  grown  into  a  University,  has,  probably,  con- 
tributed as  large  a  number  of  devoted  and  practical  men  to 
the  mission  enterprise,  as  any  similar  institution  in  America. 


TRIBUTE    TO    REV.    DANIEL    HASCALL.  95 

Up  in  that  world  of  rest, 

His  monument  shall  be ; 
For  the  spring  his  finger  pressed, 

Has  moved  eternity. 


• 


* 

• 


THE  MOST  EFFICIENT  MISSIONARIES. 

AMONG  the  various  opinions  which  prevail 
with  regard  to  the  qualifications  most  desirable 
in  a  missionary,  care  must  be  taken  that  the 
building  and  garnishing  do  not  occupy  too 
prominent  a  position,  to  the  detriment  of  the 
richer  inheritance  of  the  spirit.  Devotion  to 
Christ  and  love  to  man  are,  after  all,  the  great 
qualifications. 

Some  seven  or  eight  years  ago,  there  came  to 
Maulmain  a  fine  old  British  officer,  who  had  in 
the  dawn  of  his  career  served  in  the  Peninsular 
wars,  and  brought  away  a  French  love-token, 
in  the  shape  of  an  honorable  scar,  from  the 
battle  of  Salamanca.  He  was  an  earnest,  active, 
fearless  sort  of  a  man,  and  yet  not  particularly 
gifted  with  anything,  except  the  life-giving  in- 
fluences of  the  Holy  Spirit.  In  his  regiment  he 


THE    MOST    EFFICIENT    MISSIONARIES.  97 

was  a  sort  of  dissenting  chaplain  ;  in  the  little 
English  church  he  was  the  first  in  every  good 
word  and  work  ;  and  in  the  prison  and  hospital 
he  was  like  a  ministering  angel,  until  forbidden 
by  his  superior  to  degrade  his  office  by  familiar 
intercourse  with  the  common  soldier ;  and  then 
he  submissively  took  his  stand  in  the  doorway, 
and  read  and  preached  the  gospel  to  the  sick 
and  the  friendless  within.  Thus  much  for  his 
own  countrymen  —  but  that  was  not  all.  His 
association  with  the  American  missionaries 
opened  a  new  field  of  usefulness,  and  in  spite 
of  jeers,  reproaches  and  expostulations,  he  en- 
tered upon  it  manfully.  By  the  help  of  a 
Burmese  Christian,  who  had  been  taught  the 
English,  he  went  up  street  and  down,  preaching 
the  gospel  to  all  he  met,  and  distributing  tracts 
from  the  ample  satchel  of  his  interpreter.  He 
also  stood  in  the  zayat  by  the  wayside,  assailing 
every  passer-by ;  he  entered  the  lowly  doors  of 
the  lowliest  natives ;  and  in  the  monasteries  he 
boldly  opposed  his  own  commission  to  the  lofty 
pretensions  of  the  proud  proprietors  of  the  shaven 
crown  and  yellow  robe. 

Now  that  is  the  sort  of  man,  whatever  his 
7 


98  THE    MOST    EFFICIENT    MISSIONARIES. 

other  qualifications  may  be,  most  needed  in  the 
great  missionary  work.  The  command  of  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  '  Go  ye  into  all  the  world,  and 
preach  the  gospel  to  every  creature,'  was  not 
addressed  to  ministers  alone,  and  is  no  more 
restricted  to  a  particular  style  of  man,  or  a 
particular  set  of  qualifications,  than  it  was  to 
the  twelve  disciples.  The  commission  includes 
every  man,  woman  and  child  who  loves  the 
Saviour.  It  is  addressed  personally  and  distinct- 
ly to  each  one ;  and  whoever  evades  it  in  this 
enlightened  age,  should  at  least  be  prepared 
with  reasons  to  present  at  the  bar  of  God. 
Every  converted  soul  has  a  duty  to  perform  to 
his  fellow-men.  If  he  cannot  GO  —  if  he  is 
sure,  positively  sure,  that  he  has  an  excuse 
which  will  stand  the  searching  light  of  eternity, 
let  him  stay  at  home,  and  help  others  go.  But 
if  he  has  not  that  excuse,  he  is  disobeying  the 
last  positive  command  of  his  ascending  Lord. 
And  though,  through  the  sufferings  of  that 
slighted  Saviour,  he  may  be  so  forgiven  as  not 
to  prove  an  outcast  from  the  realms  of  bliss,  just 
so  sure  as  '  one  star  differeth  from  another  star 
in  glory,'  will  he  be  crippled  for  his  remissness, 


THE    MOST    EFFICIENT    MISSIONARIES.          99 

throughout  the  never-ending  ages  of  eternity. 
I  am  advocating  no  wild  theory ;  I  speak  the 
words  of  truth  and  soberness.  And  in  doing 
so,  I  appeal  to  conscious  hearts.  Are  there  not 
hundreds — aye,  thousands  of  truly  converted 
men  in  our  American  churches,  —  who  dare  not 
—  dare  not  enter  the  closet,  and  there,  making 
an  unreserved  consecration  of  self,  solemnly 
pray  for  light  on  the  subject  of  personal  duty  ? 
No  ;  I  will  make  no  such  general  appeal ;  but 
you  —  you  who  hold  this  paper  —  dare  yon  do 
it  ?  Have  you  ever  done  it  ?  Will  you  do  it 
now,  or  do  you  fear  the  result? 

'  I  have  an  extensive  business.' 

Ah  !  '  I  have  bought  five  yoke  of  oxen.'  That 
is  it. 

'  I  have  a  family.' 

*  He  that  loveth  son  or  daughter  — '     Take 
care ! 

'  I  am  approaching  middle  age.' 

And  therefore  should  make  the  greater  haste, 
remembering  at  the  same  time,  for  your  enr 
couragement,  that  'they  received  every  man  a 
penny.' 

*  I  believe  the  conversion  of  the  world  is  to 


100        THE    MOST    EFFICIENT    MISSIONARIES. 

be  a  gradual  thing.'  It  is  to  be  feared  that  it 
will,  until  persecution  scatters  the  church,  which 
is  hedging  herself  round  with  worldly  comforts, 
and  forgetting  the  noble  purpose  for  which  she 
was  raised  up.  And  there  are  things  in  the 
political  and  religious  horizon,  which  foretell  a 
day  of  persecution,  now  not  far  distant. 

But  I  am  wandering  from  my  subject.  While 
the  great  mass  of  Christians  are  waiting  to  be 
driven  out,  while  one  only  in  thousands  will  go 
or  can  be  sent,  should  not  that  one  be  of  the 
very  choicest  kind  ?  Yes,  as  has  been  often  said, 
the  church  must  yield  up  her  jewels,  her  richest 
and  her  brightest.  But  what  is  it  that  con- 
stitutes the  brightness  of  the  Christian  jewel? 
What  was  it  that  made  the  face  of  Moses  to 
shine,  when  he  came  forth  from  communion 
with  God  ?  Yes,  let  the  church  give  her  best 
men  —  men  of  the  warmest  hearts,  the  strongest 
faith,  the  most  prayerful  spirits  —  men,  who 
think  meanly  of  themselves,  and  feel  that  they 
are  honored  in  being  permitted  to  engage  in 
this  Christ-like  wrork  —  and  not  that  their  poor 
weak  intellects,  and  paltry  accomplishments, 
confer  honor  on  the  cause.  That  is  what  is 


THE    MOST    EFFICIENT    MISSIONARIES.        101 

holding  back  the  chariot-wheels  of  God.  Wise 
men  think  they  stoop,  they  condescend,  when 
they  become  missionaries.  Well,  let  the  wise 
men — the  Pharisees  and  Sadducees —  go  their 
ways.  Take  the  humble,  zealous,  faithful  fish- 
ermen of  Galilee,  and  God  will  use  the  weak 
things  of  this  world  to  confound  the  mighty. 
Men,  whose  hearts  are  overflowing  with  the  love 
of  Christ,  in  whatever  walks  of  life  they  may 
be  found,  will  always  make  the  most  efficient 
missionaries. 


MISAPPREHENSION. 

BY  the  September  number  of  the  Macedonian, 
I  perceive  that  some  loose  remarks  of  mine  in  a 
former  number,  have  had  the  misfortune  to  be 
entirely  misunderstood ;  and  that,  too,  by  an  old 
friend,  and  once  spiritual  instructor.  In  the 
article  entitled  '  The  most  Efficient  Missiona- 
ries,' there  was  certainly  no  intended  disparage- 
ment of  talent  and  learning.  But,  as  these 
constitute  a  species  of  riches  in  little  danger  of 
being  undervalued  at  the  present  age,  and  fully 
able  to  vindicate  their  own  claim  to  honor  and 
preferment;  while  calling  attention  to  matters 
of  higher  importance,  it  seemed  perfectly  safe 
to  leave  this  point  to  its  own  natural  guards. 
The  writer  of  '  Missionary  Qualifications,'  how- 
ever, viewing  the  subject  from  a  different  side, 
seems  to  regard  the  omission  as  a  declaration  of 
mischievous  sentiments ;  and  so  has  taken  a 


MISAPPREHENSION.  103 

more  antagonistic  position  probably  than  he  is 
aware  of.  His  article  appears  based  on  the  sup- 
position (appears  only,  for  he  surely  cannot  mean 
it),  that  Christianity  is  equally  honored  by  all 
who  actually  possess  it ;  or,  in  other  words,  that 
there  are  no  higher  spiritual  attainments,  than 
those  which  are  '  indispensable  to  every  Chris- 
tian character.'  '  In  enumerating,'  says  he,  '  the 
qualifications  of  a  man  for  manual  labor,  it  is 
needless  to  state  that  he  has  a  hand.'  True,  but 
is  it  not  very  important  to  know  what  that  hand 
may  be  in  the  way  of  muscular  power  and 
general  adaptedness  to  the  proposed  object? 
'  In  speaking,'  he  continues,  '  of  the  fitness  of 
one  for  mental  labor,  it  is  unnecessary  to  premise 
that  he  has  a  mind.1  Is  it  not  a  question  of 
some  moment,  however,  what  sort  of  mind  he 
has  1  '  And,'  he  concludes, '  in  speaking  of  the 
qualifications  of  a  Christian  missionary,  it  need 
not  be  said  he  is  a  Christian.  That  is  taken  for 
granted,'  &c.  And  is  that  really  enough  ?  After 
the  granted  fact,  that  a  Christian  missionary  is 
a  Christian,  do  his  mental  powers  come  next  in 
review  ?  So  should  not  one  of  the  most  devoted 
of  modern  missionaries  even  seem  to  teach.  As 


104  MISAPPREHENSION. 

though  there  were  no  grades  of  spiritual  life ! 
as  though  it  were  a  matter  of  little  or  no 
importance  that  they  who  stand  nearest  the  . 
Master,  and  enter  most  deeply  into  His  counsels 
should  proclaim  His  will ;  or  as  though  the  work 
might  be  trusted  with  equal  confidence  to  the 
half-hearted  disciple,  who  follows  afar  off,  and 
has  his  vision  dimmed  and  his  hearing  dulled 
by  the  thousand  earthly  shapes  and  sounds  that 
intervene ! 

After  admitting  the  gospel  messenger  to  the 
matter-of-course  community  of  '  love  to  God 
and  love  to  man,'  what  are  '  the  gifts  and  graces 
peculiar  to  the  ministry  ? '  Surely  not  those 
mental  powers  shared  by  the  instructor,  the 
physician,  and  the  lawyer.  Oh,  no  !  Infinitely 
beyond  these  are  the  higher  gifts  and  graces  of 
the  Spirit  —  not  peculiar  indeed  to  any  profes- 
sion, because  attainable  by  every  child  of  God, 
but  preeminently  the  qualifications  essential  to 
the  minister  and  the  missionary.  Oh,  it  is  not 
true,  it  cannot  be  true,  that  the  grand  intellec- 
tual '  lion  '  is  of  more  use  in  the  vineyard  of  the 
Lord,  than  the  faithful  '  dog,'  watching  his 
Master's  eye,  and  obeying  the  slightest  indica- 


MISAPPREHENSION.  105 

tion  of  His  will.  True,  the  lion  may  be  used 
upon  occasion,  because  the  Hand  th.at  made  has 
power  to  tame  him  ;  and  so  effectually  may  he 
be  tamed,  as  to  stand  forth  a  most  beautiful  and 
symmetrical  exhibition  of  the  power  of  Divine 
Grace.  We  have  had  such  lions  in  our  own 
age,  raised  up  for  special  purposes ;  and  in  the 
apostolic  age,  Paul  was  one  ;  and  farther  back, 
passing  by  many  others,  stands  Moses.  But  the 
real  power  of  these  wonderful  men  (giving  full 
credit  to  their  intellectual  greatness)  was  not  an 
original  inheritance,  nor  the  superadded  culture 
and  accomplishments  incident  to  their  position. 
By  faith,  Moses  wrought ;  and  by  the  inspiration 
of  God,  Paul  reasoned. 

The  allusion  to  the  apostle  James  at  Jerusa- 
lem, starts  quite  another  topic.  Were  the 
question  asked  me,  which  stand  most  in  need  of 
a  high  order  of  talent,  severe  mental  discipline, 
and  varied  attainments,  the  pastors  of  Boston, 
New  York,  and  Philadelphia,  or  the  missionaries 
of  China,  Burmah,  and  other  eastern  lands,  —  I 
should  have  no  hesitation  in  saying,  the  latter, 
by  a  hundred-fold.  The  one  wields  a  limited, 
however  important  influence  in  a  polished  com- 


106  MISAPPREHENSION. 

munity ;  the  other,  under  God,  sways  the  des- 
tinies of  a  nation.  The  one  needs  skill  in  using 
the  instruments  furnished  to  his  hand  ;  .the  other 
must  have  the  science  to  investigate,  and  the 
genius  to  create.  England  develops  her  strong- 
est, her  most  powerful  minds,  in  the  rich  soil  of 
the  Orient ;  and  there,  too,  must  the  American 
churches  look  for  their  great  men  —  men  who, 
in  accordance  with  the  Saviour's  type  of  great- 
ness, have  become  voluntary  servants  of  their 
brethren.  This  position  might  be  proved  by 
argument  and  by  illustration.  It  might  be 
shown  how,  in  sending  out  different  kinds  of 
material,  the  lead  had  become  silver,  and  the 
brass  gold  ;  and  how  the  gold  had  been  refined 
and  polished  till  men  were  astonished  at  its 
brightness  ;  but  offering  a  premium  to  ambition 
might  prove  a  yet  more  dangerous  experiment 
than  the  deprecated  '  premium  to  ignorance.' 

So,  since  it  seems  necessary  to  define  one's 
position  accurately,  the  <  objections '  of  the. 
writer  '  to  ministerial  education  and  missionary 
qualifications,'  stand  something  on  this  wise. 
God  has  made  it  our  duty  to  cultivate  the  minds 
he  has  given  us  to  the  extent  of  their  capacities, 


MISAPPREHENSION.  107 

so  far  as  we  have  means  and  opportunity  ;  and 
ignorance,  at  the  present  day,  except  under 
peculiar  and  uncontrollable  circumstances,  is  a 
sin.  Let  our  spiritual  teachers,  both  at  home 
and  abroad,  be  men  of  disciplined  minds  and 
habits,  endowed  with  intellectual  graces  and 
manly  accomplishments  to  the  full ;  but  let  them 
know  and  feel  that,  after  all,  these  are,  in  the 
great  work  of  the  Lord,  only  secondary  quali- 
fications. The  strong,  throbbing  pulse  of  spir- 
itual life ;  the  meek,  self-denying  soul,  attuned 
to  the  harmonious  breathings  of  the  great  Com- 
forter ;  the  '  lips  touched  with  a  live  coal  from 
the  altar '  of  God  ;  and  the  heart  so  Christ-like 
in  its  great,  wide-spreading  love,  as  to  thrill  be- 
neath every  touch  of  human  sympathy — these 
are  the  '  gifts  and  graces  '  without  which  even 
a  Paul  would  labor  in  vain.  These  are  things 
not  depending  on  human  wisdom,  and  as  far 
above  it  as  the  Word  of  God  is  above  all  human 
books  ;  and  these,  I  repeat,  in  whatever  walks  of 
life  they  may  be  found,  will  ever  constitute  the 
most  efficient  missionary. 


THE  WAN  REAPERS. 

I  CAME  from  a  land  where  a  beautiful  light 
Is  slow  creeping  o'er  hill-top  and  vale ; 

Where  broad  is  the  field,  and  the  harvest  is 

white, 
But  the  reapers  are  haggard  and  pale. 

All  wasted  and  worn  with  their  wearisome  toil, 
Still  they  pause  not  —  that  brave  little  band ; 

Though  soon  their  low  pillows   must  be  the 

strange  soil 
Of  that  distant  and  grave-dotted  strand. 

For  dangers  uncounted  are  clustering  there,  — 
The  pestilence  stalks  uncontrolled  ; 

Strange  poisons  are  borne  on  the  soft,  languid 

air, 
And  lurk  in  each  leafs  fragrant  fold. 

There  the  rose  never  blooms  on  fair  woman's 
wan  cheek, 


THE    WAN    REAPERS.  109 

But  there 's  beautiful  light  in  her  eye  ; 
And  the  smile  that  she  wears  is  so  loving  and 

meek, 
None  can  doubt  it  comes  down  from  the  sky. 

There  the  strong  man  is  bowed  in  his  youth's 

golden  prime, 

But  he  cheerily  sings  at  his  toil, 
For  he  thinks  of  his  sheaves  and  the  garnering 

time 
Of  the  glorious  Lord  of  the  soil. 

And   ever  they  turn — that  brave,  wan,  little 

band  — 

A  long,  wistful  gaze  on  the  West :  — 
'  Do  they  come  —  do  they  come  from  that  dear, 

distant  land, 
That  land  of  the  lovely  and  blest  ? 

'  Do  they  come  —  do  they  come  ?  —  Oh,  we  're 

feeble  and  wan, 

And  we're  passing  like  shadows  away ; 
But  the  harvest  is  white,  —  and  lo !  yonder  the 

dawn! 
For  laborers  —  for  laborers  we  pray ! ' 


THE    HEATHEN    BETTER    THAN 
CHRISTIANS. 


1  IT  is  not  to  be  denied,  that  people  are  worse  in  Chris- 
tendom than  in  heathen  lands.  My  own  belief  is,  that  there 
is  more  evil  of  a  soul-destroying  character  committed  in 
London  in  one  year,  than  in  Hindostan  in  ten  years  ;  and 
that  London,  Paris,  and  New  York  stand  more  in  need  of 
missionaries  than  all  heathendom. 

'  If  they '  [Messrs.  Judson  and  Parker]  '  were  to  spend  as 
much  time  in  some  parts  of  Christendom,  as  they  have  spent 
in  heathen  lands,  I  doubt  not  that  they  would  agree  with  me, 
that  "  Charity  begins  at  home." 

'  Paul  says,  "  For  when  the  Gentiles,  which  have  not  the 
law,  do  by  nature  the  things  contained  in  the  law,  those 
having  not  the  law,  are  a  law  unto  themselves;"  and 
throughout  the  whole  chapter  where  he  thus  speaks,  clearly 
shows  that  if  the  Gentiles  do  what  is  right  according  to  this 
law  written  upon  their  hearts,  they  will  be  accepted.' —  Cor- 
respondent of  the  Columbian  Magazine. 


HEATHEN  BETTER  THAN  CHRISTIANS.   Ill 

THIS  is  certainly  an  age  of  wonderful  dis- 
coveries—  discoveries  in  ethics,  as  well  as  in 
physics ;  but  it  has  been  reserved  for  the  '  Prince 
of  moralists'  to  make  the  most  astounding 
revelation  of  all  —  to  announce  to  a  Christian 
community,  that  Christianity  is  actually  demor- 
alizing. True,  there  have  been  open,  every-day 
practices  in  Hindostan,  that  would  make  the 
vilest  wretches  who  congregate  in  St.  Giles  or 
at  the  Five  Points,  turn  pale  with  horror ;  but 
then,  the  sin  was  not  of  '  a  soul-destroying  char- 
acter,' for  these  happy  heathen  were  '  a  law  unto 
themselves,'  until  English  law  and  Christian  mis- 
sionaries cast  a  blight  upon  their  pristine  purity, 
and  converted  into  crime  such  petty  pastimes 
as  drowning  an  infant,  burning  a  widow,  or 
training  a  whole  caste  to  the  pious  trade  of 
assassinating  the  lonely  traveller. 

The  sea-weary  voyager,  entering  the  Bay  of 
Bengal,  will  no  doubt  look  upon  the  group  of 
beautiful  islands,  which  sit  upon  the  waters, 
wrapped  in  their  mantle  of  soft,  purple  light,  as 
an  oriental  Eden;  and  they  are,  indeed,  not 
only  peculiarly  oriental,  but  one  of  those  Edens 
where  men  are  '  a  law  unto  themselves.'  If  a 


112       HEATHEN    BETTER    THAN    CHRISTIANS. 

vessel  be  stranded  on  their  coast,  the  affrighted 
crew  will  commit  themselves  to  the  wildest 
hurricane  seaward,  in  preference  to  the  tender 
mercies  of  paradisiacal  arrows  and  cooking- 
pots.  It  has  been  confidently  asserted  that  the 
delicate  stomachs  of  this  primitive  race  of  men, 
turn  in  disgust  from  all  inferior  viands,  to  dine 
with  peculiar  zest  off  a  barbecued  European ; 
but  as  no  man  has  ever  returned  to  tell  the  tale 
of  his  having  been  eaten,  the  gentle  Andama- 
ners  are  certainly  entitled  to  the  benefit  of  a 
doubt.  I  think,  however,  that  no  missionary 
will  rashly  covet  the  distinction  of  putting  the 
matter  to  the  test ;  and  so  philanthropists  of  a 
certain  school  may  have  the  pleasure  of  know- 
ing that  the  vices  of  Christianity  will  probably 
be  slow  in  reaching  the  Andamans.  Then  there 
are  the  Khonds  —  what  a  charming  people  they 
are,  to  be  sure,  with  their  primitive,  unsophisti- 
cated ways!  And  what  a  pity  that  narrow- 
minded,  meddling  Christians  should  interfere 
with  such  beautiful  arrangements  as  penning  up 
bands  of  boys  and  girls,  to  be  fattened  and 
scientifically  sliced,  that  their  yet  palpitating 
flesh  and  bubbling  blood  may  manure  the  soil  of 


HEATHEN  BETTER  THAN  CHRISTIANS.   113 

their  native  plains.  What  a  pity  that  the  mis- 
sionaries, who  are  now  feeding,  clothing,  and 
instructing  the  five  hundred  and  forty  youths 
rescued  from  a  doom  so  exceedingly  primeval 
in  its  Cain-like  simplicity,  had  not  remained  in 
London,  making  money  for  their  own  children, 
and  training  them  up  to  imitate  parental  self- 
ishness —  to  believe  that  '  Charity  begins  at 
home,'  and  ends  there  !  And  what  a  pity  that 
any  lady,  occupying  the  social  position  of  the 
two  who  serve  to  point  the  moral  of  our  author's 
tale  —  a  lady  who,  as  everybody  knows,  can 
find  abundance  of  time  to  dress,  shop,  visit, 
embroider  pretty  ottomans,  read  pleasing  stories, 
and  do  whatever  else  fancy  may  dictate  —  what 
a  pity  that  she,  with  her  half  dozen  children, 
actually  revelling  in  the  rich  blessings  of  a 
Christian  home,  should  occasionally  spare  an 
hour  to  a  missionary  magazine,  and  a  dollar 
to  the  mission  treasury,  in  behalf  of  the  or- 
phaned, the  desolate,  and  degraded  of  another 
land! 

Absurd  as  the  broad  assertion  of  our  moralist 
may  appear  to  those  who  have  been  favored  with 
a  wider  field  of  observation,  it  is  only  the  carica- 
8 


114   HEATHEN  BETTER  THAN  CHRISTIANS.  ' 

ture  of  a  sentiment  in  which  a  certain  class  of 
philanthropists  seem  to  take  especial  delight. 
In  proof  of  this,  one  need  but  glance  at  the 
pretty  pictures  of  American  savages  and  dark- 
eyed  orientals,  which  figure  so  largely  in  po- 
etry and  romance ;  and  which  are  about  as 
true  to  the  original,  as  would  be  a  mortal's  map 
of  fairy-land.  And  if  the  missionary's  daring 
pencil  venture  upon  a  few  of  the  black  shadows, 
which  in  truth  constitute  nine  tenths  of  the  real 
landscape, —  why,  he  is  a  poor,  plodding  sort  of 
a  creature,  incapable  of  appreciating  anything 
estimable  beyond  the  pale  of  his  own  church, 
and  quite  ignorant  of  the  world,  of  course. 
True,  he  may  have  travelled  the  earth  over,  and 
been  conversant  with  men  of  every  nation  and 
every  grade,  but  it  is  all  the  same.  His  views 
are  so  shockingly  literal, —  he  is  such  an  utter 
stranger  to  the  rosy,  refracting  atmosphere  sur- 
rounding men  of  taste,  that  it  is  evident  even  to 
persons  whose  observations  of .  human  nature 
have  been  necessarily  bounded  by  the  magic 
limits  of  '  our  set,7  and  whose  travels  have 
never  extended  beyond  the  streets  of  their  na- 
tive town,  that  he  does  not  know  the  world! 


HEATHEN    BETTER    THAN    CHRISTIANS.       115 

But  then  he  is  to  be  respected  in  a  certain  way  ; 
for  though  he  has  spent  the  prime  of  his  days 
in  beating  his  head  against  a  wall  for  the  good 
of  all  mankind,  he  meant  well,  poor  fellow !  — 
and,  without  entering  too  deeply  into  the  deli- 
cate subject  of  intellect,  it  may  be  boldly  as- 
serted, that  his  sympathies  are  limited  only  by 
his  ignorance  and  prejudice. 

Well,  the  big  heart  is  some  compensation  for 
the  shallow  brain ;  and  so  I  will  venture  to  as- 
sure certain  young  persons,  who  read  the  Mace- 
donian as  a  duty,  and  some  other  things  as  a 
pleasure,  that  there  is  no  more  ridiculous  cant 
—  cant  is  by  no  means  peculiar  to  religion  —  in 
the  wide  world,  than  the  pretty  popular  trash 
about  unsophisticated  nature.  A  poet  was  once 
disenchanted  by  seeing  a  '  great  fat  Circassian 
girl,'  sitting  on  '  one  of  her  heels,'  '  devouring  a 
pie  ; '  and  I  dare  say,  the  '  saucer-eyed '  beauty 
had  never  performed  a  more  intellectual,  or 
indeed  a  more  sentimental  act  in  her  life.  I 
could  certainly  produce,  from  among  my  Bur- 
mese neighbors,  a  better  subject  for  genius  to 
waste  itself  upon,  than  the  feather-girdled 
nymph  of  the  woods,  that  a  year  or  two  since 


116   HEATHEN  BETTER  THAN  CHRISTIANS. 

figured  in  a  fashionable  magazine,  in  the  atti- 
tude of  triumphing  over  a  pair  of  sheepish  look- 
ing missionaries  ;  but  excuse  me  from  vouching 
for  the  capabilities  of  my  protegee  beyond  the 
rice  and  curry  line,  save  on  great  occasions, 
when  her  intellect  might  actually  soar  to  the 
height  of  silks,  face-powder  —  not  soap  —  neck- 
laces, and  bangles.  A  sensible  Burmese  woman 
—  one  of  our  victims — told  me,  not  long  since, 
that  previously  to  being  taught  by  the  mis- 
sionaries, she  knew  as  little  of  Boodhism  as 
of  Christianity.  She  supposed  Gaudama  was 
some  old  priest  living  somewhere  on  the  hill, 
and  thought  it  fine  fun  to  turn  out,  with  her 
young  companions  on  worship  days,  to  make 
offerings,  and  prostrate  herself,  in  all  her  finery, 
before  a  pagoda ;  but  for  what  purpose  she 
went,  it  never  once  occurred  to  her  to  inquire. 
She  had  not  the  most  distant  conception  of  a 
future  state,  and  could  not  recollect  that  she 
had  ever  once  thought  of  death  in  connection 
with  herself.  In  short,  this  woman,  who  is  now 
as  familiar  with  the  Word  of  God  as  any  Sun- 
day scholar  in  America,  was,  at  the  age  of 
twenty,  but  one  remove  above  the  brutes,  '  a 


HEATHEN    BETTER    THAN    CHRISTIANS.        117 

mere  brute,'  she  styles  herself;  and  she  adds, 
that  she  does  not  think  herself  at  all  inferior  to 
uneducated  Burmese  girls  in  general.  But  she 
was  very  pure  and  lovely,  in  her  charming  igno- 
rance, was  she  not  ?  —  a  sort  of  dew-gem  in  the 
wilderness?  I  do  not  know  much  about  her 
girlhood,  but  of  one  thing  I  am  quite  certain, 
that  the  less  said  about  it  the  better ;  for  virtue 
is  not  forced  upon  Burmese  women,  as  on  those 
of  some  other  eastern  nations,  by  means  of 
locks  and  bars,  and  mutilated  guards.  Since 
her  marriage,  it  must  be  owned  she  has  been 
quite  a  model  woman,  for  this  part  of  the  world, 
having  been  found  guilty  of  unfaithfulness  in 
that  relation  but  once ;  and  then  being  able  to 
prove,  in  self-defence,  that  she  was  under  the 
influence  of  arrack — the  Burmese  substitute  for 
gin.  Do  I  write  with  such  plainness  as  to  shock 
the  sensibilities  of  my  readers  ?  I  do  it  unwil- 
lingly ;  and  I  assure  them  that  I  have  dared  to 
lift  only  the  tiniest  corner  of  the  veil.  But  the 
wants  and  woes  of  the  heathen  must  be  more 
fully  understood,  before  their  condition  can  be 
materially  improved.  My  happy,  lovely  sisters 
across  the  waters  must  know  for  whom  they 


118   HEATHEN  BETTER  THAN  CHRISTIANS. 

pray,  and  in  whose  behalf  they  make  those  sacri- 
fices of  personal  elegancies,  which  will  brighten 
their  crowns  in  heaven.  Not  for  some  witching, 
fairy-like  creature,  who  is  robbed  of  half  her 
charms  by  becoming  a  tame,  simple-minded  dis- 
ciple of  Christ;  but  for  a  degraded  being,  whose 
ignorance  is  surpassed  only  by  her  depravity, 
and  whose  personal  habits  would  almost  qualify 
her  to  furnish  certain  theorizing  naturalists  with 
the  long  desired  link  between  man  and  his  chat- 
tering caricature  of  the  jungle. 

'  A  law  unto  themselves,'  argues  our  moralist, 
quoting  the  words  of  the  first  missionary,  who 
left  his  own  needy  countrymen  for  the  heathen ; 
a  rare  auxiliary,  by  the  way,  in  the  good  cause 
of  showing  up  missionaries  !  '  A  law  unto  them- 
selves,' —  and,  secure  in  the  strength  of  his  sup- 
posed ally,  he  unhesitatingly  seats  himself  in  the 
commentator's  chair.  '  Throughout  the  whole 
chapter,'  verses  twelfth  and  sixteenth,  for  in- 
stance!—  'clearly  shows,  that  if  the  Gentiles,' 
—  ah  !  but  that  little  if!  it  has  ruined  many  a 
magnificent  theory.  Verily,  expertness  at  con- 
cocting moral  tales  is  not  the  best  preparation 
in  the  world  for  a  theologian.  Another  man, 


UEATHEN  BETTER  THAN  CHRISTIANS.   119 

now,  would  have  supposed  that  Paul's  argu- 
ments '  clearly  show '  quite  a  different  thing,  or 
would,  at  least,  have  allowed  him  to  be  his 
own  expositor.  In  the  next  chapter,  the  Gentile 
apostle,  like  the  skilful  reasoner  that  he  was, 
gathers  up  his  arguments  in  one  hand,  and 
while  preparing  to  reach  forth  'the  law  of  faith' 
with  the  other,  declares,  '  We  have  before  prov- 
ed, both  Jews  and  Gentiles,  that  they  are  all 
under  sin.'  ALL  under  sin !  Ah,  this  is  the 
unwelcome  truth  wrapped  up  in  that  mischiev- 
ous, stubborn  little  IF,  which  would  maintain  its 
ground,  though  tolerably  well  disguised  by  false 
logic.  So  the  Gentiles  do  not  keep  the  'law 
written  on  their  hearts,'  and  they  do  need  a 
gospel,  after  all.  What !  all  of  them  ?  Cannot 
a  single  individual  be  found,  who  never  violates 
the  law  of  conscience  ?  There  are  wonderful 
stories  told  of  Socrates,  —  so  wonderful,  indeed, 
that  many  have  believed  his  philosophy  based 
on  the  revelation  originally  made  to  the  He- 
brews ;  while  others  are  disposed  to  look  with 
incredulity  on  perfections  so  enveloped  in  the 
haze  of  antiquity.  Be  that  as  it  may,  when  a 
modern  missionary  finds  the  unique  specimen 


120   HEATHEN  BETTER  THAN  CHRISTIANS. 

of  a  Gentile,  who  '  does  right,  according  to  the 
law  written  on  his  heart,'  the  public  will  most 
certainly  be  made  acquainted  with  the  circum- 
stance ;  for,  indeed,  such  a  miracle  of  a  man 
would  be  a  fortune  to  Mr.  Barnum. 

In  sad  and  sober  truth,  the  human  being  does 
not  exist,  who  never  transgresses  both  his  own 
sense  of  right  and  the  law  of  God.  Every  child 
of  Adam  has  inherited  a  deadly  poison,  and  he 
cherishes  it  because  he  loves  it — delights  in  it — 
gloats  over  it.  He  knows,  to  a  greater  or  less 
extent,  that  it  is  a  vile  thing,  but  he  hugs  it 
none  the  less  closely  for  that;  replying  to  all 
remonstrances,  with  the  unanswerable  argument 
of  the  New  Zealand  cannibal,  when  the  mis- 
sionary endeavored  to  dissuade  him  from  eating 
human  flesh,  '  Oh,  but  it  is  so  sweet ! '  An 
antidote  to  this  fearful  poison  has  been  pro- 
vided ;  it  is  within  the  reach  of  every  soul  in 
Christendom,  and  if  he  will  not  accept  it,  '  His 
blood  be  upon  his  own  head,'  not  on  that  of 
the  missionary  who  goes  to  the  helpless,  hope- 
less heathen.  If  a  stubborn  sick  man  refuse 
the  draught  that  would  restore  him  to  health, 
shall  all  the  doctors  congregate  about  his  bed, 


HEATHEN  BETTER  THAN  CHRISTIANS.   121 

and  leave  a  whole  town  to  perish,  for  lack  of 
the  same  specific  ?  Oh,  no,  no ;  let  bright, 
beautiful  New  York,  sin-tarnished  though  she 
certainly  is,  pour  forth  her  missionaries  in 
crowds,  and  let  all  her  fair  sisters  of  the  New 
World  join  in  the  noble  enterprise.  They  will 
find  that  '  giving  doth  not  impoverish ; '  but 
that  he,  who  goes  from  among  them  in  the 
faith  of  Christ,  will  leave  a  spirit  behind  him, 
which  his  personal  presence  could  never  have 
inspired.  Let  the  daughter  of  luxury,  in  her 
home  of  refinement  and  purity,  pause,  and  give 
a  single  moment  to  serious  reflection.  It  would 
certainly  be  sweet  to  live  there,  and  tread  her 
rosy  path  daintily  ;  but  it  would  be  glorious  — 
oh,  so  glorious  !  to  die,  —  for  die  she  must  even 
in  her  own  bright  home  of  love  and  beauty,  — 
with  the  prayers  and  blessings  of  those  she  has 
rescued  from  the  lowest  depths  of  degradation, 
to  precede  her  up  to  the  throne  of  God.  Let 
the  young  man,  as  he  turns  his  back  upon  his 
alma  mater,  and  contemplates  taking  his  stand, 
in  a  world  of  action,  remember  that  he  chooses 
not  merely  for  time,  but  for  eternity ;  and  that 
results  of  incalculable  magnitude  are  hanging 


122   HEATHEN  BETTER  THAN  CHRISTIANS. 

on  his  decision.  Let  him  remember  that  heaven 
sent  forth  the  first  Missionary  —  the  Son  of 
God  —  and  he  will  not  hesitate  to  think  deeply, 
and  pray  fervently,  over  a  profession  which  had 
such  a  glorious  Founder.  To  what  higher  honor 
can  a  poor  mortal  aspire,  than  to  be  thus  di- 
rectly a  co-worker  with  the  Prince  of  glory? 
And  is  it  not  ennobling  to  the  soul  to  be  en- 
gaged, with  a  certainty  of  ultimate  success,  in 
the  elevation  of  mighty  nations?  Is  it  not  a 
sublime  deed  to  reach  forth  the  hand  to  a  fallen 
spirit,  and  lift  it  to  its  place  among  the  stars  ? 
Oh,  the  missionary  enterprise !  Its  grandeur,  its 
glory,  is  not  yet  half  appreciated,  even  by  its 
most  enthusiastic  advocates;  for  it  is  a  theme 
that  will  tax  the  expanded  intellects  of  the  re- 
deemed throughout  the  never-ending  ages  of 
eternity. 


MINT,  ANISE  AND  CUMMIN. 

'  Do  you  think  it  will  do  for to  carry  a 

silk  umbrella  in  America?' 

'Do!  why?' 

The  sweet  blue  eyes,  which  had  been  lifted 
to  mine  in  asking  the  first  question,  assumed 
a  grave  earnestness,  as  my  gentle  friend  con- 
tinued, '  I  mean,  will  people  make  unpleasant 
remarks  about  it?  Won't  they  think  it  not 
quite  the  thing  for  missionaries  ? ' 

I  glanced  at  the  poor,  ricketty,  carefully 
mended  article  in  question,  and  answered  truly, 
that  I  did  not  think  it  would  be  likely  to  create 
a  very  powerful  sensation  in  America. 

'  Ah,'  said  my  questioner,  laughing,  '  I  see 
you  don't  understand  these  things.  Now  I 
would  give  a  dozen  umbrellas  like  this,  for  one 
good  cotton  one  —  of  course  I  would.  And  yet 


124  MINT,    ANISE    AND    CUMMIN. 

I  have  known  missionaries  to  be  censured  for 
quite  as  innocent  pieces  of  extravagance,  (or 
economy,)  as  using  this  poor  specimen  of  my 
handiwork,  that  you  seem  so  inclined  to  ridi- 
cule.' 

'  And  what  if  they  are  censured  ?' 

fcYou  remember  what  Paul  says,  "If  meat 
cause  my  brother  to  offend,  I  will  eat  no  flesh 
while  the  world  standeth." ' 

'Ah,  but  '  I  spare  the  reader  an  expo- 
sition of  Scripture,  which  might  not  tend  to 
edification,  and  which  was  interrupted  by  the 
entrance  of  a  third  person. 

'  I  am  50  glad  you  have  come,'  said  my  blue- 
eyed  friend.  '  Now  don't  you  think  this  nice 
silk  umbrella  —  see  how  carefully  I  have  mend- 
ed it  —  is  quite  as  good  as  Mrs.  's  gold 

watch  ? ' 

The  two  ladies  laughed  a  short,  curious, 
apologetic  sort  of  a  laugh,  which  had  more  of 
regret  and  pain,  than  mirth  in  it,  but  which 
served  as  an  introduction  to  the  story  of  the 
gold  watch. 

Mr. had  been  many  years  married,  and 

had  lived  in  tolerably  easy  circumstances,  when 


MINT,    ANISE    AND    CUMMIN.  125 

he  was  converted,  and  received  an  appointment 
as  a  missionary  to  the  heathen.  Perhaps  he 
thought  Paul's  prohibition  of  gold  did  not  ex- 
tend to  anything  so  useful  as  a  watch,  or 
possibly  he  might  have  fancied  that  it  had  a 
strictly  feminine  application,  or  (what  is  most 
probable)  he  thought  nothing  at  all  about  it ; 
but  certain  it  is  that  he  carried  his  gold  watch, 
now  somewhat  advanced  in  years,  across  the 
waters  with  him.  In  taking  possession  of  the 
premises  of  a  brother  missionary  about  return- 
ing to  America,  the  watch,  as  a  matter  of  mutual 
accommodation,  was  exchanged  for  a  clock,  and 
so  found  its  way  again  to  its  native  shores. 
And  now  I  must  frankly  acknowledge  that  my 
memory  is  at  fault,  as  to  precisely  where  the 
watch  was  lost,  a  circumstance  which  on  the 
whole  I  do  not  regret,  as  it  preserves  me  from 
a  feeling  of  being  on  the  road  to  personalities 
in  making  this  little  record.  But  the  watch 
was  lost  by  the  missionary's  wife,  on  her  way 
to  a  female  missionary  meeting ;  and  one  of  the 
ladies  of  the  meeting  kindly  went  in  search  of 
it.  Being  unsuccessful,  she  procured  through  a 
friend  an  advertisement  to  be  inserted  in  a 


126  MINT,    ANISE    AND    CUMMIN. 

newspaper.  And  so  it  became  known  to  the 
world,  or  to  a  certain  portion  of  it,  that  'a 
missionary'  had  lost  a  'valuable  gold  watch.' 
And  then  my  two  friends,  with  a  profusion  of 
sorrowful  smiles  and  sympathetic  blushes,  called 
on  me  to  imagine  the  excitement  in  that  little 
community !  how  every  man,  woman  and  child, 
not  the  actual  proprietor  of  a  gold  watch  (and 
some  that  were)  declared  that  if  it  had  come  to 
this,  if  missionaries  could  afford  such  extrava- 
gances, they  might  get  their  money  for  the 
heathen  as  they  could ;  they  would  never  con- 
tribute a  cent  —  not  they,  indeed ! 

'  And  how  did  it  all  end  ? '  I  inquired. 

'Oh,  it  didn't  end  —  such  things  never  do. 
They  go  on  increasing  and  doing  mischief  to 
the  end  of  the  chapter.' 

'  So  you  see,'  said  Blue-eyes,  '  we  cannot  be 
too  careful.' 

'  I  see.'  My  answer  was  mechanical ;  for 
my  thoughts  were  not  there.  They  were  busy 
recalling  the  image  of  a  poor  woman  I  once 
knew,  who,  while  bearing  the  burden  and  heat 
of  the  day  in  the  support  of  her  family,  was 
obliged  to  take  especial  care,  lest,  by  some  word 


MINT,    ANISE    AND    CUMMIN.  127 

or  look,  she  should  displease  her  husband  ;  and 
BO  deprive  herself  of  the  occasional  assistance 
he  condescended  to  render.  I,  however,  saw 
in  a  moment  the  infelicity  of  my  comparison, 
for  this  man  was  a  drunkard,  not  a  professed 
child  of  God. 

'  We  cannot  be  too  careful,'  repeated  my 
gentle  friend. 

'  Oh  no.'  I  did  not  well  know  what  to  say, 
and  I  did  not  dare  trust  myself  to  look  at  her. 
Here  was  a  tender  young  mother,  bearing  a 
heavier  sorrow  than  those  of  my  readers  who 
have  only  laid  their  children  beneath  the  sod 
know  anything  of;  and  in  the  midst  of  it  all, 
troubling  her  meek  thoughts  about  an  old 
umbrella,  lest  she  might  inadvertently  displease 
the  men  and  women,  who  never  in  their  lives 
made  a  real  sacrifice  for  Christ.  Not  that  she 
cared  to  please  for  her  own  sake  —  the  very 
flush  on  her  cheek  told  that — but  from  love  to 
her  Master  she  could  submit  to  anything.  And 
then  rny  thoughts  wandered  off  to  snug,  cozy 
homes,  where  dutiful  children  might  gather, 
and  even  the  troubles  were  of  a  comfortable, 
easy  sort  of  character,  rendering  life  more 


128  MINT,    ANISE    AND    CUMMIN. 

agreeable  by  occasional  up-hill  passages.  And 
I  saw  in  my  musing  (I  could  not  help  it)  some 
of  the  occupants  of  these  enviable  homes,  carp- 
ing at  the  length  of  Peter's  beard,  or  the  fashion 
of  John's  mantle,  while  the  Saviour  of  the 
world  walked  in  all  his  majesty,  unwelcomed, 
and  scarcely  recognised. 

'  It  won't  do ! '  at  length  I  broke  forth,  more 
peremptorily  than  I  had  intended. 

'  You  think  it  won't,'  was  the  answer  in  a 
tone  so  resigned  as  to  be  positively  touching. 

'  Oh,  the  old  umbrella!  I  didn't  mean  that. 
It  won't  do  for  poor  missionaries  to  trammel 
themselves  with  all  these  knotty  consciences. 
You  know  "  John  came  neither  eating  nor 
drinking,  and  they  said  he  had  a  devil ;  the 
Son  of  Man  came  eating  and  drinking,  and 
they  said,  Behold  a  gluttonous  man,  a  wine- 
bibber,"  &c.  I  fancy  the  old  generation  is  not 
quite  extinct.' 

'  Oh,  those  were  the  unbelieving  Jews  — 
these  are  Christians.' 

1  You  think  so  —  well ! '  For  a  few  days  my 
thoughts  were  busy  with  those  Christians,  who 
'bind  heavy  burdens  and  grievous  to  be  borne' 


MINT,    ANISE    AND    CUMMIN.  129 

upon  the  shoulders  of  their  brethren,  and  '  will 
not  themselves  so  much  as  touch  the  burdens 
with  one  of  their  fingers.'  But  gradually  the 
subject  occupied  less  space  in  my  mind,  and 
finally  came  to  be  regarded  as  one  of  those 
phantoms  which  occasionally  visit  us  during  our 
daylight  musings,  as  well  as  sleeping  dreams. 
This  state  of  confidence,  however,  was  destined 
to  be  disturbed. 

'  And  what  do  you  think  of  my  dress  ? '  asked 
a  returned  missionary,  at  the  close  of  a  conver- 
sation in  which  she  had  been  detailing  certain 
plans  of  self-devotement  to  a  friend.  '  Pray  do 
not  look  so  surprised  at  my  question,  or  I  shall 
be  quite  ashamed.  You  must  be  aware  that 
such  things  have  more  weight  than  they  ought ; 
and  I  should  not  wish  my  influence  injured  by 
anything  so  trivial.' 

'  You  need  not  fear  that ;  yours  is  just  that 
happy  style  of  dress  which  nobody  ever  sees. 
Now  I  take  a  second  look,  it  is  of  fine  material, 
but  there  is  nothing  showy  about  it ;  and  as  to 
fashion,  it  is  neither  quite  new,  nor  so  old  as 
to  attract  attention  by  its  oddity.  A  very  fair 
9 


130  MINT,    ANISE    AND    CUMMIN. 

specimen  of  the  wearer's  good  sense  and  good 
taste  both,  it  strikes  me.' 

'Indeed  the  wearer  deserves  no  such  com- 
pliment. I  was  quite  shivering  in  New  York, 

when  Mrs. was  so  very  kind  as  to  present 

me  with  her  last  year's  bonnet  and  mantle. 
They  are,  of  course,  nicer  than  I  should  have 
bought,  but  they  are  very  comfortable ;  and  I 
did  not  feel  at  liberty  to  refuse  the  gift,  unless, 
indeed,  I  should  do  harm  by  wearing  it.  I 
should  rather  go  back  to  my  thin  old  shawl  and 
straw  bonnet,  than  have  my  nice,  comfortable 
clothing  stand  in  the  way  of  my  doing  good.' 

'I  do  not  doubt  that;  but  you  need  have  no 
fears.' 

Unfortunately  this  well-meaning  friend  was 
mistaken.  The  missionary  went  from  place  to 
place,  pressing  her  cause,  with  an  eloquent  ear- 
nestness, which  belongs  to  the  deep,  unselfish 
heart  of  a  truly  devoted  woman  ;  and  while 
many  listened  prayerfully  and  contributed  libe- 
rally, others  (not  mockers,  not  giddy  women  of 
the  world,  not  declared  enemies  of  the  cause  of 
missions)  sat  taking  an  inventory  of  her  dress, 
estimating  how  many  yards  of  cloth  were  in 


MINT,    ANISE    AND    CUMMIN.  131 

her  mantle,  and,  in  the  course  of  their  exami- 
nations, arriving  at  the  astounding  conclusion, 
that  it  was  composed  of  as  fine  —  possibly  finer 
material  than  their  own. 

Out  upon  the  woman  !  Did  she  presume  to 
come,  in  all  her  finery,  begging  of  them !  They 
always  had  a  good  many  doubts  about  this 
missionary  business,  but  this  —  this  was  a  little 
too  much  !  And  so  these  people  kept  back  the 
accustomed  sixpence  —  very  likely  to  increase 
the  fineness  of  their  own  mantles  another  win- 
ter. Perhaps  not,  though.  Perhaps  they  would 
not  wear  a  fine  mantle,  if  it  were  given  them. 
Perhaps  they  are  very  exact  (as  they  ought  to 
be)  about  the  tithe  of  mint,  anise  and  cummin  ; 
dressing  in  chintz,  and  eschewing  ribands,  alto- 
gether. And  so  they  save  their  money  —  for 
what  ?  To  '  pull  down  their  barns  and  build 
greater?'  To  add  that  long  coveted  lot  to  the 
farm  ?  To  provide  for  the  possible  wants  of 
children,  who  have  strong  hands  and  able 
heads  ? 

I  will  not  ask  for  what;  no  matter  what,  if 
they  '  neglect  the  weightier  matters  of  the  law.' 

Now  I  am  no  defender  of  gold  watches,  or 


132  MINT,    ANISE    AND    CUMMIN. 

silk  umbrellas.  I  have  no  desire  to  varnish 
over  the  faults  or  follies  of  any  missionary ; 
but  wo  to  that  man  who  shall  make  the  delin- 
quencies of  his  brother-servant  an  excuse  for 
disobeying  the  Master  !  Wo  to  that  disciple  of 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who,  under  any  pretext 
whatever,  refuses  to  obey  the  last  command  of 
his  risen  Redeemer,  to  the  very  best  of  his 
ability!  If  he  cannot  himself  'go,'  he  must  pro- 
cure a  substitute,  or  assist  in  procuring  one,  at 
his  peril.  Assist,  not  meanly  and  parsimoni- 
ously, serving  God,  as  somebody  has  it,  by  six- 
pences, but  with  a  noble  generosity,  worthy 
of  his  character  as  a  Christian,  worthy  of  the 
wondrous  commission  with  which  he  has  been 
honored,  worthy  of  the  glorious  cause  of  his 
all-glorious  King. 


THE   MISSIONARY. 

ONE  blossom  in  his  path  uncloses, 

His  prayers  its  sun,  his  tears  its  rain, 
A  flower  Eve  found  not  with  the  roses 

Of  her  bright  silver-fringed  domain. 
One  joy  beneath  his  foot  upsprings, 
Extracted  from  the  serpent's  stings :  — 
As  the  soiled  wing,  enchained  to  earth, 

Its  thraldom  bursts,  and  soaring,  flies, 
So  wakes  the  soul  to  its  new  birth, 

And  bounds,  exulting,  to  the  skies. 
To  loose  the  prisoned  flutterer's  wing, 
Touch  the  degraded  spirit's  spring, 
To  give  a  songster  to  the  sky, 
A  voice  to  swell  the  choir  on  high, — 
Oh,  if  there  be  for  man  a  bliss, 
Above  what  angels  feel,  't  is  this ! 


BODAU-PARAH. 

PERSONS  in  the  least  familiar  with  Burmese 
history  must  have  heard  of  the  already  half- 
fabulous  feats  of  that  mighty  conqueror  and 
deliverer,  the  justly  famed  Alompra.*  They 
will  have  heard  of  his  bold  and  successful  ven- 
ture to  obtain  freedom  from  Peguan  bondage ; 
of  his  bravery  in  battle,  of  his  wisdom  in  coun- 
cil, and  how,  through  him,  the  proud  Burmans 
took  for  a  time  their  former  rank  among  the 
great  nations  of  the  East.  The  Burmans  de- 
termined utterly  to  crush  the  nation  that  had 
dared  to  make  them  slaves;  and  accordingly, 
the  whole  Peguan  dynasty,  every  person  sus- 
pected of  having  a  drop  of  royal  blood  in  his 


*  English  corruption  of  Aloung-parah,  —  a  name  given  after 
death,  in  allusion  to  the  body's  having  lain  in  regal  state  in 
the  Martaban  valley. 


BODAU-PARAH.  135 

veins,  embracing  the  flower  of  the  nobility, 
suffered  death  by  starvation,  by  strangling,  or 
by  the  more  honored  medium  of  the  river  and 
the  crimson  sack.  The  imperial  crown,  of 
course,  fell  upon  the  brow  of  the  nation's  de- 
liverer ;  and,  half-deified  as  he  was,  his  laws 
must  needs  be  sacred  for  centuries  to  come. 
Among  other  regulations,  of  more  or  less  wis- 
dom and  importance,  he  established  a  new 
order  of  succession  to  the  throne.  Being  the 
eldest  of  several  brothers,  he  ordained  that  his 
crown  should  descend  through  each  of  the 
surviving  brothers  successively  to  his  own 
eldest  son ;  and  then  again  through  a  family  of 
brothers,  back  to  the  eldest  son  of  the  eldest. 
Alompra  no  doubt  intended  to  make  a  wise 
and  politic  arrangement,  which  should  insure 
to  the  throne  men  of  mature  judgment,  and 
prevent  the  horrors  of  a  regency  in  such  a 
country.  But  his  plan  was  a  total  failure. 
Through  the  agency  of  ambitious  brothers,  and 
elder  sons  impatient  of  delay,  it  has  occasioned 
so  much  bloodshed  and  confusion,  that  it  may 
justly  be  considered  one  of  the  principal  causes 


BODAU-PARAH. 

of  the  rapid  deterioration  so  evident  in  the 
national  character  of  the  Burmese. 

The  youngest  son  of  Alompra  survived  not 
only  his  uncles  and  brothers,  but  his  own  chil- 
dren, leaving  the  throne  to  a  favorite  grandson. 
For  this  cause  he  is  always  spoken  of  as  Bodau- 
parah,  or  the  royal  grandfather.  This  man 
possessed,  with  a  thoughtful,  and  somewhat 
philosophic  turn  of  mind,  great  strength  of  will, 
pride,  sternness,  and  a  lofty  self-reliance,  which 
his  ruggedness  and  force  of  character  redeemed 
from  the  ridiculous  vanity  of  his  successor  of 
'  golden  fetter '  memory,  and  even  elevated  into 
something  like  sublimity.  His  name  is  now 
most  reverently  cherished  throughout  Burmah, 
as  the  embodiment  of  all  that  is  daring  and 
noble ;  and  the  taint  of  religious  heresy,  which 
at  one  time  threatened  the  ruin  of  his  character, 
is  resolutely  denied  or  forgotten.  If  a  stranger 
should  wish  to  awaken  a  glow  of  patriotism  in 
a  Burman,  that  would  beautify  his  plain  but  in- 
tellectual face,  (taking  care  that  he  be  not  of 
Peguan  origin,)  he  has  only  to  call  up  some 
grateful  reminiscence  of  Bodau-parah. 

The  following  incident  relative  to  an  attempt 


BODAU-PARAH.  137 

on  the  part  of  the  English,  to  establish  a  com- 
mercial treaty  between  the  two  countries  during 
the  reign  of  Bodau,  was  related  to  me  by  my 
fine-spirited  old  teacher,  a  pure  Burman,  who 
had  worn  the  yellow  robe  at  Ava,  and  who, 
although  an  exile  for  his  religion,  still  kept  a 
feeling  of  loyalty  at  his  heart,  fed  by  all  the 
proud  fire  of  his  race. 

THE    KING    AND    THE    ENVOY. 

Proud  the  monarch  in  his  palace, 

In  his  golden  palace  sat, 
Girt  as  with  the  borealis, 

Sandalled  foot  on  jewelled  mat. 
Slaves  to  him  and  his  opinions, 

Swart  old  courtiers  round  him  knelt ; 
And  throughout  his  broad  dominions, 

Even  his  slightest  nod  was  felt. 

Now  there  bowed  a  courtly  stranger, 

Fair  of  face  and  smooth  of  speech  ;  — 
'If — oh,  glorious  king,  if  danger 

To  the  golden  foot  should  reach, 
Owns  thy  brother  power  unbounded ; 

On  the  winds  his  tall  ships  fly ; 
Where  his  thunders  have  resounded, 

Foes  like  jungle-blossoms  lie. 


138  BODAU-PARAH. 

Then  the  old  king  slowly  baring 

One  dark,  brawny,  sinewy  arm ; 
As  a  gladiator  daring 

Man  and  beast  to  work  him  arm ; 
Stretched  it  to  the  wondering  Briton, 

Stretched  it  with  a  scornful  laugh,  — 
'  Kyee-san,  nen*  should  foes  dare  threaten, 

Burmah  needs  no  foreign  staff! ' 

Wild  eyes  gleamed,  proud  words  were  uttered, 

Bearded  lips  with  smiles  were  gay  ; 
Low  the  baffled  stranger  muttered, 

As  he  turned  and  strode  away  : 
Like  the  gull,  her  white  wings  spreading, 

Seaward  wheeled  his  barque  once  more ; 
Eestless  feet  her  fair  decks  treading, 

Dark  eyes  laughing  from  the  shore. 

But  there  is  another  anecdote  of  Bodau- 
parah,  which,  though  no  less  truthful  or  inter- 
esting than  the  above,  it  is  a  scandal  to  repeat 
in  Burmah. 

For  a  period  of  more  than  two  thousand  years 
Boodhism  had  prevailed  uninterrupedly.  Intro- 
duced right  royally,  and  through  a  royal  medium 

*  Look  [at  this]  —  you  ! 


BODAU-PARAII.  139 

from  India,  the  work  of  propagation  among  the 
common  people  had  been  followed  up  by  mis- 
sionaries from  Ceylon,  till  probably  no  national 
religion  under  the  sun  ever  so  claimed  the 
undivided  affections  and  convictions  of  an 
entire  nation.  Supported  on  the  one  hand  by 
the  absolute  authority  of  an  uncompromising 
monarchy,  and  on  the  other  by  the  powerful 
influence  of  a  priesthood,  whose  roots  extended 
into  every  family  of  respectability,  drawing  no 
stinted  nourishment  from  family  pride ;  a  struc- 
ture really  admirable  in  itself,  still  stood  forth 
without  a  fracture,  and  with  only  a  slight 
mantling  of  moss  and  mildew  to  mar  its 
beauty.  While  this  comparatively  pure  and 
elevated  faith  had  been  supplanted  in  its  origi- 
nal dominions  by  the  disgusting  doctrines  and 
horrible  practices  of  the  Brahminists,  while  in 
China  it  held  a  divided  sovereignty,  in  Thibet 
had  become  so  changed  in  character  as  to  be 
scarcely  recognisable,  and  even  in  its  old  Cing- 
halese  home  had  deteriorated  almost  to  a  level 
with  surrounding  idolatries,  in  Burmah  it  had 
only  swerved  a  little  from  its  original  simplicity, 
and  gathered  a  few  premonitory  stains.  True, 


140  BODAU-PARAH. 

the  priests  did  not  obey,  in  spirit,  the  command 
of  Gaudama,  to  go  clothed  in  rags,  but  their 
rich  silken  robes  were  sewed  together  from  such 
nominal  fragments  as  would  bring  them  within 
the  letter  of  the  law  ;  and  though  they  adhered 
to  the  original  rule  of  owning  no  property,  and 
striving  for  no  political  power,  they  ruled  with 
absolute  sway  over  commoners  and  nobility, 
and  rich  communities  of  leprous  beggars  were 
their  obsequious  bankers.  In  one  thing  they 
had  gone  counter  to  the  commands  of  Gau- 
dama. They  had  been  forbidden  to  inhabit 
monasteries  within  the  limits  of  the  town,  an 
injunction  which  had  been  from  time  imme- 
morial practically  forgotten.  But  the  worst 
blot  upon  the  Boodhistic  religion,  the  most 
destructive  of  its  purity,  and  the  most  degrad- 
ing in  its  influence  on  the  character  of  the 
people  was  not,  or  spirit-worship.  Little  altars 
to  both  good  and  evil  spirits  were  often  erected 
at  the  very  doors  of  the  Kyoungs ;  and  the 
younger  priests  not  infrequently  shared  their 
quota  of  rice  with  these  invisible  visitors,  while 
the  older  ones  winked  at  the  folly.  To  a  still 


BODAU-PARAH.  141 

more   alarming    extent  was   this   demoralizing 
practice  carried  on  among  the  people. 

The  great  distinctive  feature  of  Boodhism  is 
its  proclaiming  one  god,  who  alone  (through 
images  of  himself,  pagodas  erected  over  his 
relics,  and  the  priests  who  devote  themselves 
to  his  honor)  is  the  suitable  object  of  worship. 
A  belief  in  a  plurality  of  gods  always  has  the 
effect  of  degrading  a  people  —  a  truth  trite 
enough  in  our  ears,  but  one  which  the  thought- 
ful Bodau-parah  had  occupied  years  in  arriving 
at.  In  fact,  the  stern  king  had  had  too  long  a 
term  of  peace  for  the  good  of  old  institutions ; 
and  during  this  term  of  peace,  he  had  thought, 
and  observed,  and  delved  in  old  Pali  books,  till 
he  became  more  learned  in  both  the  philosophy 
and  mythology  of  Boodhism,  than  even  the 
priests  themselves.  He  had  compared  and 
pondered,  till  his  shrewd  mind  had  arrived 
at  many  startling  conclusions ;  and,  bold  man 
as  he  was,  he  expressed  his  opinions  so  freely, 
that  his  most  politic  nobles  trembled  for  what 
they  well  tfnew  to  be  the  glory  of  the  nation ; 
his  more  reckless  courtiers  grew  openly  and 
gayly  irreligious;  while  troubled  priests,  in  the 


142  BODAU-PARAH. 

recesses  of  their  monasteries,  laid  a  finger  on 
their  lips  significantly,  and  sighed,  rather  than 
whispered,  'ptiramat.'*  In  the  meantime  the 
governors  of  different  provinces  seemed  aware 
that  the  most  effectual  mode  of  courting  royal 
favor  was  to  hold  the  reins  of  religious  intoler- 
ance slackly ;  and  latitudinous  opinions,  and 
freedom  of  inquiry  spread  throughout  the  em- 
pire with  wonderful  rapidity.  In  this  newly 
opened  nursery  of  thought,  sprang  up  innu- 
merable sects,  or  schools  of  philosophy.  There 
were  men  who  denied  the  existence  of  matter ; 
men  who  insisted  that  matter  was  only  a  de- 
velopment of  mind ;  and  those  who  maintained, 
with  innumerable  shades  of  difference,  directly 
the  reverse  of  this  proposition.  There  were 
deists  of  a  dozen  different  schools;  and  tran- 
scendentalists,  who  ventured  farther  into  the 
realms  of  mysticism,  than  the  more  practical 
occidental  mind  would  dare,  or  has  the  spiritual 
capacity  to  go.  Among  these  free-thinking  phi- 
losophers was  a  noble  old  patriarch  living  at 
Pro  me,  who,  according  to  all  accounts,  must 
have  been  a  modern  Socrates,  and  who,  in  the 

*  Infidel. 


BODAU-PARAH.  143 

reign  of  the  Grandson,  became  a  still  closer  imi- 
tator of  the  ancient  sage,  by  sacrificing  his  life 
to  his  faith.  Another  was  Moung  Shwayngong, 
a  man  of  commanding  personal  presence,  and 
exalted  character,  who,  with  several  of  his  dis- 
ciples, afterwards  embraced  Christianity,  and 
contributed  to  give  a  cast  of  uncommon  intellec- 
tuality to  the  first  Christian  Church  in  Burmah. 
One  of  his  followers,  (probably  the  only  survivor) 
an  old  lady  now  living  in  Maulmain,  invariably 
attracts  the  attention  of  strangers,  by  her  singu- 
lar refinement  and  elegance  of  manner,  her 
general  intelligence,  and  her  genuine  Christian 
graces.  And  yet  she  is  said  to  have  been,  at 
the  time  of  her  conversion,  far  from  a  brilliant 
specimen  of  the  intellectual  coterie  to  which 
she  belonged. 

At  length  Bodau-parah,  having  very  uninten- 
tionally thrown  open  the  flood-gates  of  thought 
throughout  his  realm,  took  the  alarm.  He  never 
had  the  least  intention  of  allowing  such  latitude 
of  opinion  to  common  minds ;  and  he  devoted 
himself  with  characteristic  energy  to  finding  a 
remedy.  There  were  men  of  almost  all  nations 
assembled  at  Ava,  'and  he  resolved  to  have, 


144  BODAU-PARAH. 

through  their  aid,  an  examination  of  the  differ- 
ent religions,  in  order  that  Burmah  might  adopt 
the  wisest  code.  Royal  councillors  and  aristo- 
cratic priests  trembled ;  but  they  dared  not 
manifest  their  uneasiness  by  a  murmur.  The 
haughty  king  asked  no  adviser,  and  he  constitu- 
ted himself  sole  judge.  The  day  was  appointed ; 
the  various  representatives  came  together ;  the 
royal  secretaries  sat  down  with  their  black 
books  spread  before  them ;  and  the  king  con- 
ducted the  examination  in  person,  and  some- 
times, in  his  earnestness,  without  the  formality 
of  an  interpreter.  There  was  the  wily  Brahmin, 
telling  on  his  rosary  the  names  of  his  multitude 
of  uncouth  divinities ;  the  exiled  Parsee,  with 
his  finely  cut  features,  and  deep,  melancholy 
eyes,  in  which  slumbered  a  fire  as  fervid  as  that 
he  worshipped;  the  bearded  Moslem,  who  hid 
the  Son  of  God  behind  the  shadow  of  his 
mighty  human  Prophet ;  and  the  Armenian  and 
Romanist,  who  also  hid  from  the  poor  heathen 
king,  the  Saviour  of  the  world,  but,  for  the 
conquering  Prophet,  substituted  a  woman. 

And  were  these  all?     Were  Armenian  mer- 
chants and  Portuguese  Padres  the  only  repre- 


BODAU-PARAH.  145 

sentatives  of  the  Christian  religion  in  Burmah  ? 
Oh,  '  how  unsearchable  are  His  judgments,  and 
His  ways  past  finding  out?'  Not  far  from  the 
mouth  of  that  same  Irrawaddy,  whose  crystal 
tide  swept  down  the  white  sands  of  the  golden 
city,  sat  the  first  American  missionary,  pointing 
dumbly  to  the  different  objects  in  his  room,  and 
writing  down  their  names  as  indicated  in  the 
strange  accents  of  the  teacher  by  his  side. 
And  while,  with  his  heroic  wife,  his  longing 
heart  often  turned  toward  the  place,  where, 
years  afterward,  one  received  '  in  his  body  the 
marks  of  the  Lord  Jesus'  to  wear  till  death, 
and  the  other  gathered  up  the  seeds  of  martyr- 
dom ;  it  was  well  for  their  peace,  for  their  faith, 
perhaps,  that  they  could  not  divine  the  scene 
passing  there  at  that  moment.  It  would  have 
appeared  to  them  a  golden  opportunity  lost 
forever. 

But  there  was  one  man  at  Ava  calling  him- 
self a  Protestant.  A  large  framed  man,  with 
coarse,  strongly  marked  features,  and  ruddy 
complexion,  though  wearing  the  Burman  dress, 
answered  to  an  English  name.  It  was  reported 
that  for  some  crime,  which  rumor  variously 
10 


146  BODAU-PARAH. 

represented,  though  she  never  wiped  it  from 
blood-guiltiness,  this  man  had  escaped  from 
the  English  navy,  and  taken  shelter  under  a 
heathen  government,  adopting  with  the  dress, 
the  manners,  customs,  and,  as  far  as  in  his 
power,  the  character  of  the  people.  He  had  not 
troubled  himself  about  religion,  and  in  a  time 
of  such  general  laxness  of  opinion,  he  had  not 
of  course  been  troubled.  This  man,  with 
probably  some  effort  to  recall  his  mothers 
teachings,  and  now  and  then  prompted  by  the 
Spanish  merchant  at  his  side  to  whom  we  an; 
indebted  for  the  story,  at  last  succeeded  in  re- 
peating the  ten  commandments !  And  that 
was  all.  The  representatives  of  the  different 
religions  left  the  royal  presence ;  and  not  the 
faintest  whisper  of  the  gospel  of  Christ  had 
fallen  on  the  ear  of  the  inquiring  monarch. 

The  king  hastily  retired  to  the  inner  palace 
alone  ;  while  ministers  of  state,  and  gallant 
court  favorites,  gathered  here  and  there  in  little 
knots,  to  discuss  the  wonders  of  the  day.  Sub- 
tle metaphysicians  enlarged  upon  the  spiritual 
doctrines  of  the  Parsee;  gay,  showy  young  men 
compared  sneeringly  the  pomp  of  any  Moorman 


BODAU-PARAH.  147 

festival,  with  the  gorgeous  splendors  of  a  Bood- 
histic  cremation  of  priests ;  the  court  wit  per- 
petrated an  epigram  on  woman-worship ;  while 
sober  politicians  attempted  to  weigh  the  effect 
of  the  whole  proceeding  upon  the  prosperity  of 
the  country.  It  was  evident  to  all  that  the  mon- 
arch was  disappointed,  chagrined ;  but  none  but 
the  Almighty  saw,  or  could  guess,  the  workings 
of  his  dark,  though  powerful  mind.  At  length, 
after  three  days,  he  came  forth  in  great  state, 
and  proclaimed  the  Boodhistic  faith  to  be  the 
most  elevated,  the  purest  in  the  world,  and  the 
only  one  worthy  the  attention  of  Burmans. 
The  shouts  that  rose  beyond  the  magic  circle 
of  the  king's  personal  attendants  were  almost 
deafening;  and  scarcely  a  voice  in  the  golden 
city  but  joined  in  the  general  cry,  ascribing  half 
the  attributes  of  Deity  to  the  mighty  son  of 
Alompra.  But  soon  the  cry  died  away  in  con- 
sternation ;  for  the  king  had  yet  other  commu- 
nications to  make,  and  edicts  to  issue.  As 
Boodhism  was  a  pure  religion,  he  determined 
it  should  be  observed  in  its  purity.  All  the  not 
tables  were  ordered  to  be  torn  down;  and  niti 
offerings  and  nat  worship  forbidden,  on  penalty  of 


148  BODAU-PARAH. 

imprisonment  and  final  death.  Kyoungs  erected 
within  the  limits  of  the  town  were  dismantled; 
and  the  priests  stripped  of  their  rich  robes,  and 
driven  back  to  the  wilderness.  Then  ensued  a 
scene  of  confusion.  Many  priests,  especially 
those  of  high  family,  resisted,  and  were  thrown 
into  prison.  Many  concealed  their  sacred  gar- 
ments under  the  plaided  cloth  of  a  layman, 
wound  a  turban  around  their  shaven  crowns, 
and  fled  to  Prome,  to  Rangoon,  and  even  across 
a  section  of  the  bay  to  Martaban,  Kyaikamee, 
or  Bike,  being  everywhere  protected  by  the 
trembling,  sympathizing  people.  One  of  these 
fugitives  actually  obtained  a  shelter  for  the 
night,  and  a  protection  for  his  effects,  in  the 
house  of  the  American  missionary  at  Rangoon ; 
who  heard  of  the  persecution  only  as  the  cruel 
and  causeless  act  of  a  despotic  monarch,  and 
never  dreamed  that  it  could  be  the  work  of  a 
mind  apparently  ripe  for  the  reception  of  the 
gospel. 

Gradually  the  king  relaxed  in  the  energy  of 
his  measures,  and  affairs  began  very  slowly  to 
resume  their  former  position.  But  before  much 
had  been  accomplished,  he  died,  and  left  the 


BODAU-PARAH.  149 

throne  to  his  grandson ;  who  promptly  restored 
the  old  order  of  things,  with  no  scruples  respect- 
ing undue  pomp  and  glitter.  And  the  result, 
under  him  and  his  successors,  is  well  known  to 
the  Christian  world. 

'  Oh,  if  you  could  only,  only  have  been  there  !' 
was  the  exclamation  of  the  listener  to  this  tale. 
4  Even  a  few  words  might  have  been  sufficient.' 

The  narrator  answered  with  a  quiet,  but  ex- 
pressive smile. 

'  If  you  could  only  have  known ! ' 

'  I  felt  as  you  do  when  Lanciego  first  told  me 
the  circumstance,  when  we  were  chained  to- 
gether in  the  death  prison  at  Ava;  but  God 
cares  for  the  interests  of  his  kingdom  far  better 
than  the  wisest  and  best  of  us  know  how  to 
care.  The  religion  of  our  Saviour,  propagated 
by  despotism,  would  be  a  curse,  and  not  a 
blessing  to  a  nation.  And  even  the  favoring 
smile  of  royalty  is  a  thing  I  have  long  since 
ceased  to  pray  for.  All  we  want  of  any  govern- 
ment is  bare  toleration — that  is,  to  be  let  alone. 
It  is  contrary  to  the  very  spirit  of  Christianity 
to  begin  with  those  in  power,  and  work  down- 
ward ;  and  when  it  does  so  begin,  the  vital 


150  BODAU-PARAH. 

spark  is  sure  to  escape  in  the  process.  Christ, 
our  pattern,  began  low.  He  did  not  turn  away 
from  Nicodemus,  or  the  Roman  centurion,  or 
the  nobleman  ;  but  he  made  no  special  effort  for 
the  benefit  of  those  classes,  with  the  view  of 
gaining,  through  them,  greater  influence  over 
the  lower  orders.  Missionaries,  if  they  would 
be  successful,  must  have  more  faith  in  God ; 
and  work  in  his  own  appointed  way,  preaching 
the  gospel  to  the  poor.  It  is  painful  to  think  of 
the  pitiable  old  king,  groping  so  earnestly,  in 
his  darkness ;  but  the  Saviour  has  the  good  of 
Burmah  infinitely  nearer  his  heart  than  we  have, 
and  He  was  watching  when  my  poor  "  eyes 
were  holden."  I  thank  Him  for  His  care ;  and  I 
stand  ready  to  do  His  work,  however  lowly,  and 
wait  His  time,  however  long.' 


DEATH    OF    BOARDMAN. 

PALE  with  sickness,  weak  and  worn, 
Is  the  Christian  hero  borne, 
Over  hill,  and  brook,  and  fen, 
By  his  band  of  swart,  wild  men, 
Dainty  odors  floating  back, 
From  their  blossom-crushing  track. 

Through  the  jungle  vast  and  dim, 
Swells  out  Nature's  matin  hymn  : 
Bulbuls  'mid  the  berries  red, 
Showers  of  mellow  music  shed ; 
Thrushes  'neath  their  crimson  hoods, 
Chant  their  loves  along  the  woods  : 

And  the  heron,  as  he  springs 
Up,  with  startled  rush  of  wings, 


152  DEATH    OF    BOARDMAN. 

Joins  the  gorgeous  peacock's  scream  ; 
While  the  gushing  of  the  stream 
Gives  sweet  cadence  to  the  hymn, 
Swelling  through  the  jungle  dim. 

So  they  bear  him  on  his  way, 
Till  the  sunless  sky  is  gray ; 
Then  within  some  lone  zayat, 
Gentle  fingers  spread  the  mat ; 
And  a  watcher,  sad  and  wan, 
Bends  above  him  till  the  dawn. 

Up  and  on  !    The  tangled  brake 
Hides  the  deadly  water-snake  ; 
And  the  tiger,  from  his  lair 
Half  up-springing,  snuffs  the  air, 
Doubtful  gazing  where  they  pass, 
Trailing  through  the  long  wet  grass. 

Day  has  faded,  —  rosy  dawn 
Blushed  again  o'er  wood  and  lawn  ; 
Day  has  deepened,  —  level  beams 
Light  the  brook  in  changeful  gleams, 
Breaking  in  a  golden  flood, 
Kound  strange  groupings  in  the  wood. 


DEATH    OF    BOARDMAN.  153 

There,  where  mountains  wild  and  high, 
Range  their  peaks  along  the  sky, 
Lo  !  they  pause.     A  crimson  glow 
Burns  upon  that  cheek  of  snow ; 
And  within  the  eyes'  soft  blue 
Quiver  tears  like  drops  of  dew. 

Upward,  from  the  wooded  dell, 
High  the  joyous  greetings  swell, 
Peal  on  peal ;  then,  circling  round, 
Turbaned  heads  salute  the  ground, 
While  upon  the  dewy  air 
Floats  a  faint,  soft  voice  in  prayer. 

With  the  fever  on  his  cheek, 
Breathing  forth  his  teachings  meek, 
Long  the  gospel-bearer  lies, 
Till  the  stars  have  climbed  the  skies, 
And  the  young  moon's  slender  rim 
Hides  behind  the  mountain  grim. 

'Twas  for  this  sweet  boon  he  came, 
Crushing  back  Death's  eager  claim  ; 
Yet  a  few  more  lambs  to  fold, 
Ere  he  mingles  with  the  mould, — 


154  DEATH  OF  BOARDMAN. 

Lambs  with  torn  and  crimsoned  fleece, 
Wildered  in  this  wilderness. 

Once  again  the  golden  day 
Drops  her  veil  of  silver  gray  ; 
And  that  dark-eyed  mountain  band 
Print  with  bare,  brown  feet  the  sand, 
Or  the  crystal  wave  turn  back, 
Rippling  from  their  watery  track. 

Meekly  down  the  river's  bed, 
Sire  and  son  alike  are  led, 
Parting  the  baptismal  flood, 
As  of  old  in  Judah's  wood ; 
While  throughout  the  sylvan  glen 
Rings  the  stern,  deep-voiced  Amen. 

With  the  love-light  in  his  eyes, 
Mute  the  dying  teacher  lies. 
It  is  finished.  •  Bear  him  back  ! 
Haste  along  the  jungle  track! 
See  the  lid  uplifting  now,  — 
See  the  glory  on  his  brow. 

It  is  finished.     Wood  and  glen 
Sigh  their  mournful,  meek  Amen. 


DEATH    OF    BOARDMAN.  155 

'Mid  that  circle,  sorrow-span ned, 
Clasping  close  an  icy  hand, 
Lo  !  the  midnight  watcher  wan, 
Waiting  yet  another  dawn. 


WAYSIDE  PREACHING. 

THE  sunlight  fell  aslant  upon  the  fragile 
frame-work  of  a  Burman  zayat;  but  though  it 
was  some  hours  past  mid-day,  the  burning  rays 
were  not  yet  level  enough  to  look  too  intru- 
sively beneath  the  low,  projecting  eaves.  Yet 
the  day  was  intensely  hot,  and  the  wearied 
occupant  of  the  one  bamboo  chair  in  the  centre 
of  the  building,  looked  haggard  and  care-worn. 
All  day  long  had  he  sat  in  that  position,  re- 
peating over  and  over  again,  as  he  could  find 
listeners,  such  simple  truths  as  mothers  are 
accustomed  to  teach  the  infant  on  their  knee ; 
and  now  his  head  was  aching,  and  his  heart 
was  very  heavy.  He  had  met  some  scoffers, 
some  who  seemed  utterly  indifferent,  but  not 
one  sincere  inquirer  after  truth. 

In  the  middle  of  the  day,  when  the  sun  was 
hottest,  and  scarcely  a  European  throughout  all 


WAYSIDE    PREACHING.  157 

India  was  astir,  he  had  received  the  greatest 
number  of  visitors ;  for  the  passers-by  were  glad 
of  a  moment's  rest  and  shelter  from  the  sun. 
The  mats  were  still  spread  invitingly  upon  the 
floor;  but  though  persons  of  almost  every  de- 
scription were  continually  passing  and  repassing, 
they  seemed  each  intent  on  his  own  business, 
and  the  missionary  was  without  a  listener.  He 
thought  of  his  neglected  study-table  at  home, 
of  his  patient,  fragile  wife,  toiling  through  the 
numerous  cares  of  the  day  alone,  of  the  letters 
his  friends  were  expecting,  and  which  he  had 
no  time  to  write,  of  the  last  periodicals  from  his 
dear  native  land,  lying  still  unread ;  and  every 
little  while,  between  the  other  thoughts,  came 
real  pinings  after  a  delicious  little  book  of 
devotion,  which  he  had  slid  into  his  pocket  in 
the  morning,  promising  it  his  first  moment  of 
leisure.  Then  he  was,  naturally,  an  active  man, 
of  quick,  ardent  temperament,  and  with  such 
views  of  the  worth  of  time  as  earnest  American 
men  can  scarcely  fail  to  gain ;  and  it  went  to 
his  heart  to  lose  so  many  precious  moments. 
If  he  could  only  do  something  to  fill  up  these 
tedious  intervals!  But  no;  this  was  a  work 


]58  WAYSIDE    PREACHING. 

to  which  he  must  not  give  a  divided  mind. 
He  was  renewing  a  half-tested  experiment  in 
wayside  preaching,  and  he  would  not  suffer  his 
attention  to  be  distracted  by .  anything  else. 
While  his  face  was  hidden  by  his  book,  and  his 
mind  intent  on  self-improvement,  some  poor 
passer-by  might  lose  a  last,  an  only  opportunity 
of  hearing  the  words  of  life.  To  be  sure,  his 
own  soul  seemed  very  barren,  and  needed  re- 
freshing; and  his  body  was  weary  —  wearied 
well  nigh  to  fainting,  more  with  the  dull,  palsy- 
ing inanity  of  the  day's  fruitless  endeavors,  than 
with  anything  like  labor.  Heavily  beat  down 
the  hot  sun,  lighting  up  the  amber-like  brown 
of  the  thatch,  as  with  a  burning  coal;  while 
thickly  in  its  broad  rays  floated  a  heavy  golden 
cloud  of  dust  and  motes,  showing  in  what  a 
wretched  atmosphere  the  delicate  lungs  were 
called  to  labor.  Meantime,  a  fever-freighted 
breeze,  which  had  been,  all  the  hot  day,  sweep- 
ing the  'effluvia  from  eastern  marshes,  stirred 
the  glossy  leaves  of  the  orange-tree  across  the 
way,  and  parched  the  lip,  and  kindled  a  crimson 
spot  upon  the  wan  cheek  of  the  weary  mission- 
ary. 


WAYSIDE    PREACHING.  159 

'  God  reigns,'  he  repeated,  as  though  some 
reminder   of    the   sort   were    necessary.    '  God 
Almighty  reigns ;  and  I  have  given  myself  to 
him,  soul  and  body,  for  time  and  for  eternity. 
His  will  be  done!'     Still,  how  long  the   day 
seemed!     How  broad  the  space  that  blistering 
sun  had  yet  to   travel,   before  its  waiting,  its 
watching,   and  its  laboring  would  be   ended! 
Might  he  not  indulge  himself  just  one  moment  ? 
His  hand  went  to  his  pocket,  and  the  edge  of  a 
little  book  peeped  forth  a  moment,  and  then, 
with  a  decided  push,  was  thrust  back  again. 
No ;    he  would  not  trifle  with   his   duty.     He 
would  be  sternly,  rigidly  faithful ;  and  the  bless- 
ing would  surely  come  in  time.     Yet  it  was 
with  an  irrepressible  yawn  that  he  took  up  a 
little   Burman    tract    prepared    by    himself,   of 
which  every  word  was  as  familiar  as  his  own 
name,   and   commenced  reading    aloud.      The 
sounds  caught  the  ear  of  a  coarsely  clad  water- 
bearer,   and   she   lowered   the   vessel  from  her 
head,  and  seated  herself  afar  off,  just  within  the 
shadow  of  the  low   eaves.     Attracted   by  the 
foreign  accent  of  the  reader,  few  passed  without 
turning  the  head  a  few  moments  to  listen ;  then 


160  WAYSIDE    PREACHING. 

catching  at  some  word  which  seemed  to  them 
offensive,  they  would  repeat  it  mockingly  and 
hasten  on. 

Finally  the  old  water-bearer,  grinning  in 
angry  derision  till  her  wrinkled  visage  became 
positively  hideous,  rose,  slowly  adjusted  the 
earthen  vessel  on  her  head,  and  passed  along, 
muttering  as  she  went,  '  Jesus  Christ !  —  no 
Nigban!  —  ha,  ha,  ha!'  The  heart  of  the  mis- 
sionary sunk  within  him,  and  he  was  on  the 
point  of  laying  down  the  book.  But  the  shadow 
of  another  passer-by  fell  upon  the  path,  and  he 
continued  a  moment  longer.  It  was  a  tall, 
dignified  looking  man,  leading  by  the  hand  a 
boy,  the  open  mirthmlness  of  whose  bright, 
button-like  eyes  was  in  perfect  keeping  with 
his  dancing  little  feet.  The  stranger  was  of  a 
grave,  staid  demeanor,  with  a  turban  of  aristo- 
cratic smallness,  sandals  turning  up  at  the  toe, 
a  silken  robe  of  somewhat  subdued  colors,  and 
a  snow-white  tunic  of  gentlemanlike  length, 
and  unusual  fineness. 

'  Papa,  papa ! '  said  the  boy,  with  a  merry 
little  skip,  and  twitching  at  the  hand  he  was 


WAYSIDE    PREACHING.  161 

holding,    'Look,  look,    papa!    there    is    Jesus 
Christ's  man.     Amai!  how  shockingly  white !' 

'  Jesus  Christ's  man '  raised  his  eyes  from  the 
book  which  he  could  read  just  as  well  without 
eyes,  and  bestowed  one  of  his  brightest  smiles 
upon  the  little  stranger,  just  as  the  couple  were 
passing  beyond  the  corner  of  the  zayat,  but  not 
too  late  to  catch  a  bashfully  pleased  recognition. 
The  father  did  not  speak  nor  turn  his  head,  but 
a  ray  of  sunshine  went  down  into  the  mission- 
ary's heart  from  those  happy  little  eyes ;  and  he 
somehow  felt  that  his  hour's  reading  had  not 
been  thrown  away.  He  had  remarked  this  man 
before,  in  other  parts  of  the  town ;  and  had 
striven  in  various  ways  to  attract  his  attention, 
but  without  success.  He  was  evidently  known, 
and  most  probably  avoided ;  but  the  child,  with 
that  shy,  pleased,  half-confiding,  roguish  sort  of 
smile,  seemed  sent  as  an  encouraging  messen- 
ger. The  missionary  continued  his  reading  with 
an  increase  of  earnestness  and  emphasis.  A 
priest  wrapped  his  yellow  robes  about  him  and 
sat  down  upon  the  steps,  as  though  for  a  mo- 
ment's rest.  Then,  another  stranger  came  up. 
boldly,  and  with  considerable  ostentation  seated 
11 


162  WAYSIDE    PREACHING. 

himself  on  the  mat.  He  proved  to  be  a  philos- 
opher, from  the  school  then  recently  disbanded 
at  Prorne ;  and  he  soon  drew  on  a  brisk,  ani- 
mated controversy. 

The  missionary  did  not  finish  his  day's  work 
with  the  shutting  up  of  the  zayat.  At  night, 
in  his  closet,  he  remembered  both  philosopher 
and  priest;  pleaded  long  and  earnestly  for  1he 
scoffing  old  water-bearer ;  and  felt  a  warm  tear 
stealing  to  his  eye,  as  he  presented  the  case  of 
the  tall  stranger,  and  the  laughing,  dancing  ray 
of  sunshine  at  his  side. 

Day  after  day  went  by,  as  oppressively  hot, 
as  dusty,  and  bringing  as  many  feverish  winds 
as  ever ;  but  the  hours  were  less  wearisome, 
because  many  little  buds  of  hope  had  been 
fashioned,  which  might  yet  expand  into  perfect 
flowers.  But  every  day  the  tall  stranger  carried 
the  same  imperturbable  face  past  the  zayat; 
and  every  day  the  child  made  some  silent  ad- 
vance towards  the  friendship  of  the  missionary, 
bending  his  half-shaven  head,  and  raising  his 
little  nut-colored  hand  to  his  forehead,  by  way 
of  salutation,  and  smiling  till  his  round  face 
dimpled  all  over  like  ripples  in  a  sunny  pool. 


WAYSIDE    PREACHING.  163 

One  day,  as  the  pair  came  in  sight,  the  mis- 
sionary beckoned  with  his  hand,  and  the  child, 
with  a  single  bound,  came  to  his  knee. 

'  Moung-Moung ! '  exclaimed  the  father  in  a 
tone  of  surprise  blended  with  anger.  But  the 
child  was  back  again  in  a  moment,  with  a  gay 
colored  Madras  handkerchief  wound  around  his 
head ;  and  with  his  bright  lips  parted,  his  eyes 
sparkling,  and  dancing  with  joy,  and  his  face 
wreathed  with  smiles,  he  seemed  the  most 
charming  thing  in  nature.  '  Tai  hlah-the."  (very 
beautiful)  said  the  child,  touching  his  new  tur- 
ban, and  looking  into  his  father's  clouded  face, 
with  the  fearlessness  of  an  indulged  favorite. 

'  Tai  hlah-the  ! '  repeated  the  father  involun- 
tarily. He  meant  the  child. 

*  You  have  a  very  fine  boy  there,  Sir,'  said  the 
missionary,  in  a  tone  intended  to  be  concilia- 
tory. The  stranger  turned  with  a  low  salaam. 
For  a  moment  he  seemed  to  hesitate,  as  though 
struggling  between  his  native  politeness  and  his 
desire  to  avoid  an  acquaintance  with  the  prose- 
lyting foreigner.  Then  taking  the  hand  of  the 
little  boy  who  was  too  proud  and  happy  to  no- 
tice his  father's  confusion,  he  hastened  away. 


164  WAYSIDE    PREACHING. 

'  I  do  not  think  that  zayat  a  very  good  place 
to  go  to,  Moung-Moung,'  said  the  father  gravely, 
when  they  were  well  out  of  hearing.  The  boy 
answered  only  by  a  look  of  inquiry  strangely 
serious  for  such  a  face  as  his. 

'  These  white  foreigners  are .'  He  did 

not  say  what,  but  shook  his  head  with  myste- 
rious meaning.  The  boy's  eyes  grew  larger  and 
deeper,  but  he  only  continued  to  look  up  into 
his  father's  face  in  wondering  silence. 

'  I  shall  leave  you  at  home  to-morrow,  to  keep 
you  from  his  wicked  sorceries.' 

1  Papa ! ' 

'  What,  my  son  ? ' 

'  I  think  it  will  do  no  good  to  leave  me  at 
home.' 

'Why?' 

'  He  has  done  something  to  me.' 

<  Who  ?  the  Kalah-byoo  ? ' 

'  I  do  not  think  he  has  hurt  me,  papa ;  but  I 
cannot  —  keep  —  away  —  no  —  oh,  no ! ' 

'  What  do  you  mean,  Moung-Moung  ?  ' 

'  The  sorcerer  has  done  something  to  me  — 
put  his  beautiful  eye  on  me.  I  see  it  now.' 


WAYSIDE    PREACHING.  165 

And  the  boy's  own  eyes  glowed  with  a  strange, 
startling  brilliancy. 

' ' Mai,  -mai !  what  a  boy !  He  is  not  a  sor- 
cerer, only  a  very  provoking  man.  His  eye, 
—  whish !  It  is  nothing  to  my  little  Moung- 
Moung.  I  was  only  sporting.  But  we  will 
have  done  with  him  ;  you  shall  go  there  no 
more ' 

'  If  I  can  help  it,  papa ! ' 

'Help  it!  Hear  the  foolish  child!  What 
strange  fancies ! ' 

*  Papa ! ' 

<  What,  my  son  ? ' 

'  You  will  not  be  angry  ? ' 

*  Angry  !  '      The   soft  smile    on    that  stern 
bearded  face  was  a  sufficient  answer. 

'  Is  it  true  that  she  —  my  mother ? ' 

'  Hush,  Moung-Moung ! ' 

*  Is  it  true  that  she  ever  shikoed  to  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ?' 

*  Who  dares  to  tell  you  so  ? ' 

'  I  must  not  say,  papa  ;  the  one  who  toid  me, 
said  it  was  as  much  as  life  is  worth  to  talk  of 
such  things  to  your  son.  Did  she,  papa  ?  ' 


166  WAYSIDE    PREACHING. 

'  What  did  he  mean  ?  Who  could  have  told 
you  such  a  tale  ? ' 

'  Did  she,  papa  ? ' 

'  That  is  a  very  pretty  goung--boung-  the  for- 
eigner gave  you.' 

'  Did  she  ? ' 

*  And  makes  your  bright  eyes  brighter  than 
ever.' 

'  Did  my  mother  sltiko  to  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ?' 

'  There,  there,  you  have  talked  enough,  my 
boy,'  said  the  father  gloomily ;  and  the  two 
continued  their  walk  in  silence.  As  the  con- 
versation ceased,  a  woman  who,  with  a  palm- 
leaf  fan  before  her  face,  had  followed  closely  in 
the  shadow  of  the  stranger  —  so  closely,  indeed, 
that  she  might  have  heard  every  word  that  had 
been  spoken  —  stopped  at  a  little  shop  by  the 
way,  and  was  soon  seemingly  intent  on  making 
purchases. 

4  Ko  Shway-bay  ! '  called  out  the  missionary. 
A  man  bearing  a  large  satchel,  which  he  had 
just  newly  filled  with  books,  appeared  at  the 
door  of  an  inner  apartment  of  the  zayat. 


WAYSIDE    PREACHING.  167 

'  'Ken-pay ah  /' 

'  Did  you  observe  the  tall  man  who  just  pass- 
ed, leading  a  little  boy  ?  ' 

'  I  saw  him.' 

'  What  do  you  know  about  him  ?  ' 

'  He  is  a  writer  under  government  —  a  very 
respectable  man  —  haughty  —  reserved ' 

'  And  what  else  ?  ' 

'  He  hates  —  Christians,  Tsayah? 

1  Is  he  very  bigoted,  then?' 

'  No,  Tsayah ;  he  is  more  like  a  p'dramat  than 
a  Boodhist.  Grave  as  he  appears,  he  sometimes 
treats  sacred  things  very  playfully,  always  care- 
lessly. But  does  the  teacher  remember  —  it 
may  be  now  three,  four  —  I  do  not  know  how 
many  years  ago,  —  a  young  woman  came  for 
medicine ?' 

The  missionary  smiled.  '  I  should  have  a 
wonderful  memory,  Shway-bay,  if  I  carried  all 
my  applicants  for  medicine  in  it.' 

'  But  this  one  was  not  like  other  women. 
She  had  the  face  of  a  ridt-thamee]  [goddess  or 
angel,]  '  and  her  voice  —  the  teacher  must  re- 
member her  voice  —  it  was  like  the  silvery 
chimes  of  the  pagoda  bells  at  midnight.  She 


168  WAYSIDE    PREACHING. 

was  the  favorite  wife  of  the  Sah-ya,  and  this 
little  boy,  her  only  child,  was  very  ill.  She  did 
not  dare  ask  you  to  the  house,  or  even  send  a 
servant  for  the  medicine,  for  her  husband  was 
one  of  the  most  violent  persecutors ' 

'  Ay,  I  do  recollect  her,  by  her  distress  and  her 
warm  gratitude.  So  this  is  her  child!  What 
has  become  of  the  mother  ?  ' 

'  Has  the  teacher  forgotten  putting  a  Gospel 
of  Matthew  in  her  hand,  and  saying  that  it 
contained  medicine  for  her,  for  that  she  was 
afflicted  with  a  worse  disease  than  the  fever  of 
her  little  son  ;  and  then  lifting  up  his  hands  and 
praying  very  solemnly  ?  ' 

'  I  do  not  recall  the  circumstance  just  now. 
But  what  came  of  it  ?  ' 

'  They  say,'  answered  the  Burman,  lowering 
his  voice,  and  first  casting  an  investigating 
glance  around  him,  — '  they  say  that  the  medi- 
cine cured  her.' 

'Ah!' 

'  She  read  the  book  nights,  while  watching  by 
her  baby,  and  then  she  would  kneel  down  and 
pray  as  the  teacher  had  done.  At  last  the 
Sah-ya  got  the  writing.' 


WAYSIDE    PREACHING.  169 

'  What  did  he  do  with  it  ? ' 

'  Only  burnt  it.  But  she  was  a  tender  little 
creature,  and  could  not  bear  his  look ;  so,  as  the 
baby  got  out  of  danger,  she  took  the  fever ' 

'  And  died  ? '  asked  the  missionary,  remarking 
some  hesitation  in  the  manner  of  his  narrator. 


'  Not  of  the  fever  altogether.' 


«  What  then  ?     Surely,  he  did  not ' 

'  No,  Tsayah  !  it  must  have  been  an  angel-call. 
The  Sah-ya  was  very  fond  of  her,  and  did  every- 
thing to  save  her ;  but  she  just  grew  weaker, 
day  after  day,  and  her  face  more  beautiful ;  and 
there  was  no  holding  her  back.  She  got  courage 
as  she  drew  near  Paradise,  and  begged  the  Sah- 
ya  to  send  for  you.  He  is  not  a  hard-hearted 
man,  and  she  was  more  than  life  and  soul  to 
him  ;  but  he  would  not  send.  And  so  she  died, 
talking  to  the  last  moment  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  and  calling  on  everybody  about  her  to 
love  Him,  and  worship  none  but  Him.' 

'  Is  this  true,  Shway-bay  ? ' 

( /  know  nothing  about  it,  Tsayah ;  and  it  is 
not  very  safe  to  know  anything.  The  Sah-ya 
has  taken  an  oath  to  destroy  everybody  having 
too  good  a  memory.  But,'  —  and  the  man 


170  WAYSIDE    PREACHING. 

again  looked  cautiously  around  him,  —  'does 
the  teacher  think  that  little  Burman  children 
are  likely  to  run  into  the  arms  of  foreigners, 
without  being  taught?' 

'  Aha !  say  you  so,  Shway-bay  ?  ' 

'  I  say  nothing,  Tsayah? 

1  What  of  the  child  ? ' 

'  A  wonderful  boy,  Tsayah.  He  seems  usually 
as  you  have  seen  him ;  but  he  has  another  look, 
—  so  strange  !  He  must  have  caught  something 
from  his  mother's  face,  just  before  she  went  up 
to  the  golden  country.' 

The  missionary  seemed  lost  in  thought ;  and 
the  assistant,  after  waiting  a  moment  to  be 
questioned  farther,  slung  his  satchel  over  his 
shoulder,  and  proceeded  up  the  street. 

The  next  day  the  missionary  remarked  that 
the  Sah-ya  went  by  on  the  other  side  of  the  way, 
and  without  the  little  boy;  and  the  next  day, 
and  the  next  the  same.  In  the  meantime,  the 
wrinkled  old  water-bearer  had  become  a  sincere 
inquirer.  '  The  one  shall  be  taken  and  the  other 
left,'  sighed  the  missionary,  as  he  tried  to  dis- 
cern the  possible  fate  of  his  bright-eyed  little 
friend. 


WAYSIDE    PREACHING.  171 

The  fourth  day  came.  The  old  water-bearer 
was  in  an  agitated  state  of  joy  and  doubt  — 
a  timid,  but  true  believer.  The  self-confident 
philosopher  had  almost  ceased  to  cavil.  Fresh 
inquirers  had  appeared,  and  the  missionary's 
heart  was  strengthened.  'It  is  dull  work,'  he 
said  to  himself,  though  without  any  expression 
of  dullness  in  his  face ;  '  but  it  is  the  Saviour's 
own  appointed  way,  and  the  way  the  Holy 
Spirit  will  bless.'  Then  his  thoughts  turned  to 
the  stern  Sah-ya,  and  his  little  boy;  and  he 
again  murmured,  with  more  of  dejection  in  his 
manner  than  when  he  had  spoken  of  the  dull- 
ness of  the  work,  '  And  the  other  left — the  other 
left." 

The  desponding  words  had  scarcely  passed 
his  lips,  when,  with  a  light  laugh,  the  very  child 
who  was  in  his  thoughts,  and  who  somehow 
clung  so  tenaciously  to  his  heart,  sprang  up  the 
steps  of  the  zayat,  followed  by  his  grave,  digni- 
fied father.  The  boy  wore  his  new  Madras 
turban,  arranged  with  a  pretty  sort  of  jaunti- 
ness,  and  above  its  showy  folds  he  carried  a  red 
lacquered  tray,  with  a  cluster  of  golden  plantains 
on  it.  Placing  the  gift  at  the  missionary's  feet, 


172  WAYSIDE    PREACHING. 

he  drew  back,  with  a  pleased  smile  of  boyish 
shyness,  while  the  man,  bowing  courteously, 
took  his  seat  upon  the  mat. 

'  Sit  down,  Moung-Moung,  sit  down,'  said  the 
father,  in  the  low  tone  that  American  parents 
use  when  reminding  careless  little  boys  of  their 
hatsj  for  though  Burmans  and  Americans  differ 
somewhat  in  their  peculiar  notions  of  etiquette, 
the  children  of  both  races  seem  equally  averse 
to  becoming  learners. 

'  You  are  the  foreign  priest,'  he  remarked 
civilly,  and  more  by  way  of  introduction  than 
inquiry. 

'  I  am  a  missionary.' 

The  stranger  smiled,  for  he  had  purposely 
avoided  the  offensive  epithet ;  and  was  amused 
and  conciliated  by  the  missionary's  frank  use  of 
it.  '  And  so  you  make  people  believe  in  Jesus 
Christ?' 

« I  try  to.' 

The  visitor  laughed  outright ;  then,  as  if  a 
little  ashamed  of  his  rudeness,  he  composed  his 
features,  and  with  his  usual  courtesy  resumed, 
'  My  little  son  has  heard  of  you,  Sir ;  and  he  is 
very  anxious  to  learn  something  about  Jesus 


WAYSIDE    PREACHING.  173 

Christ.  It  is  a  pretty  story  that  you  tell  of  that 
man  —  prettier  I  think  than  any  of  our  fables ; 
and  you  need  not  be  afraid  to  set  it  forth  in  its 
brightest  colors ;  for  my  Moung-Moung  will 
never  see  through  its  absurdity,  of  course.' 

The  missionary  threw  a  quick,  scrutinizing 
glance  on  the  face  of  his  visitor.  He  saw  that 
the  man  was  ill  at  ease,  that  his  carelessness 
was  entirely  assumed,  and  that  underneath  all, 
there  was  a  deep,  wearing  anxiety,  which  he 
fancied  was  in  some  way  connected  with  his 
boy.  '  Ah  !  you  think  so  ?  To  what  particular 
story  do  you  allude  ? ' 

'  Why  that  of  the  strange  sort  of  being  you 
callJesus  Christ, — a  not,  or  prince  or  something 
of  that  sort,  —  dying  for  us  poor  fellows,  and  so  — 
ha,  ha !  The  absurdity  of  the  thing  makes  me 
laugh  ;  though  there  is  something  in  it  beautiful 
too.  Our  stupid  pongyees  would  never  have 
thought  out  anything  one  half  so  fine ;  and  the 
pretty  fancy  has  quite  enchanted  little  Moung- 
Moung  here.' 

'  I  perceive  you  are  a  p'dram'dtj  said  the  mis- 
sionary. '  No,  —  oh  no ;  I  am  a  true  and  faith- 
ful worshipper  of  Lord  Gaudama ;  but  of  course 


174  WAYSIDE    PREACHING. 

neither  you  nor  I  subscribe  to  all  the  fables  of 
our  respective  religions.  There  is  quite  enough 
that  is  honest  and  reasonable  in  our  Boodhistic 
system  to  satisfy  me;  but  my  little  son'  (here 
the  father  seemed  embarrassed,  and  laughed 
again,  as  though  to  cover  his  confusion,)  'is 
bent  on  philosophical  investigation  —  eh,  Moung- 
Moung  ? ' 

'  But  are  you  not  afraid  that  my  teachings 
will  do  the  child  harm  ?' 

The  visitor  looked  up  with  a  broad  smile  of 
admiration,  as  though  he  would  have  said,  'You 
are  a  very  honest  fellow,  after  all ; '  then  regard- 
ing the  child  with  a  look  of  mingled  tenderness 
and  apprehension,  he  said  softly,  '  Nothing  can 
harm  little  Moung-Moung,  Sir.' 

'  But  what  if  I  should  tell  you  I  do  believe 
every  thing  I  preach,  as  firmly  as  I  believe  you 
sit  on  the  mat  before  me ;  and  that  it  is  the  one 
desire  of  my  life  to  make  everybody  else  believe 
it  —  you  and  your  child  among  the  rest  ?  ' 

The  Sah-ya  tried  to  smile,  tried  to  looked  un- 
concerned; but  his  easy  nonchalance  of  manner 
seemed  utterly  to  forsake  him  in  his  need  ;  and 
finally  abandoning  the  attempt  to  renew  his 


WAYSIDE    PREACHING.  175 

former  tone  of  banter,  he  answered  quietly,  *  I 
have  heard  of  a  writing  you  possess,  which,  by 
your  leave,  I  will  take  home  and  read  to  Moung- 
Moung.' 

The  missionary  selected  a  little  tract  from  the 
parcel  on  the  table  beside  him,  and  extended  it 
to  his  visitor.  '  Sah-yaJ  said  he,  solemnly,  '  I 
herewith  put  into  your  hands  the  key  to  eternal 
life  and  happiness.  This  active,  intelligent  soul 
of  yours,  with  its  exquisite  perception  of  moral 
beauty  and  loveliness,'  and  he  glanced  toward 
the  child,  '  cannot  be  destined  to  inhabit  a  dog,N 
a  monkey,  or  a  worm,  in  another  life.  God 
made  it  for  higher  purposes ;  and  I  hope  and 
pray  that  I  may  yet  meet  you,  all  beautiful,  and 
pure,  and  glorious,  in  a  world  beyond  the  reach 
of  pain  or  death,  and  above  all,  beyond  the 
reach  of  sin.' 

Up  to  this  time  the  boy  had  sat  upon  his  mat 
like  a  statue  of  silence  ;  his  usually  dancing 
eyes  fixed  steadfastly  upon  the  speakers,  and 
gradually  dilating  and  acquiring  a  strange  mys- 
tic depth  of  expression,  of  which  they  seemed  at 
first  incapable.  At  these  words,  however,  he, 
sprang  forward. 


176  WAYSIDE    PREACHING. 

'  Papa  !  papa !  hear  him !  Let  us  both  Jove 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ !  My  mother  loved  Him ; 
and  in  the  golden  country  of  the  blessed  she 
waits  for  us.' 

'  I  must  go,'  said  the  Sah-ya  hoarsely,  and 
attempting  to  rise. 

'  Let  us  pray  ! '  said  the  missionary  kneeling 
down. 

The  child  laid  his  two  hands  together,  and 
placing  them  against  his  forehead,  bowed  his 
head  to  the  mat ;  while  the  father  yielded  to  the 
circumstances  of  the  case  so  far  as  to  re-seat 
himself.  Gradually,  as  the  fervent  prayer  pro- 
ceeded, his  head  drooped  a  little ;  and  it  was 
not  long  before  he  placed  his  elbows  on  his 
knees,  and  covered  his  face  with  his  hands.  As 
soon  as  the  prayer  was  ended,  he  rose,  bowed  in 
silence,  took  his  child  by  the  hand,  and  walked 
away. 

Day  after  day  went  by,  the  Sah-ya,  as  he 
passed  the  zayat,  always  saluting  its  occupant 
respectfully,  but  evincing  no  disposition  to  culti- 
vate his  acquaintance  farther.  He  was  accom- 
panisd  by  the  boy  less  often  than  formerly ;  but, 
from  casual  opportunities,  the  missionary  re- 


WAYSIDE    PREACHING.  177 

marked  that  a  strange  look  of  though tfulness 
had  crept  into  the  childish  face,  softening  and 
beautifying,  though  scarcely  saddening  it.  And 
when  occasionally  the  little  fellow  paused  for  a 
moment,  to  ask  for  a  book,  or  exchange  a  word 
of  greeting,  the  gay  familiarity  of  his  manner 
seemed  to  have  given  place  to  a  tender,  trustful 
affection,  somewhat  tinctured  with  awe. 

Meanwhile  that  terrible  scourge  of  Eastern 
nations,  the  cholera,  had  made  its  appearance, 
and  it  came  sweeping  through  the  town  with  its 
usual  devastating  power.  Fires  were  kindled 
before  every  house,  and  kept  burning  night  and 
day ;  while  immense  processions  continually 
thronged  the  streets  with  gongs,  drums,  and 
tom-toms,  to  frighten  away  the  evil  spirits,  and 
so  arrest  the  progress  of  the  disease.  The  zayat 
was  closed  for  lack  of  visitors ;  and  the  mission- 
ary and  his  assistants  busied  themselves  in  at- 
tending on  the  sick  and  dying. 

It  was  midnight  when  the  over-wearied  for- 
eigner was  roused  from  his  slumbers  by  the 
calls  of  the  faithful  Ko  Shway-bay. 

'  Teacher,  teacher,  you  are  wanted ! ' 

4  Where?' 

19 


178  WAYSIDE    PREACHING. 

The  man  lowered  his  voice  almost  to  a  whis- 
per, but  putting  his  hands  to  each  side  of  his 
mouth,  sent  the  volume  of  sound  through  a 
crevice  in  the  boards.  '  At  the  Salt-yct's.' 

'  Who  ?  ' 

'  I  do  not  know,  Tsayah ;  I  only  heard  that 
the  cholera  was  in  the  house,  and  the  teacher 
was  wanted,  and  so  I  hurried  off  as  fast  as 
possible.' 

In  a  few  minutes,  the  missionary  had  joined 
his  assistant,  and  they  proceeded  on  their  way 
together.  As  they  drew  near  the  house,  the 
Burman  paused  in  the  shadow  of  a  bamboo 
hedge. 

'  It  is  not  good  for  either  of  us,  that  we  go  in 
together  ;  I  will  wait  you  here,  Tsayah? 

1  No,  you  need  rest ;  and  I  shall  not  want 
you  —  go ! ' 

The  verandah  was  thronged  with  relatives 
and  dependents  ;  and  from  an  inner  room,  came 
a  wild,  wailing  sound  which  told  that  death 
was  already  there.  No  one  seemed  to  observe 
the  entrance  of  the  foreigner;  and  he  followed 
the  sound  of  woe  till  he  stood  by  the  corpse 


WAYSIDE    PREACHING.  179 

of  a  little  child.  Then  he  paused  in  deep  emo- 
tion. 

{  He  has  gone  up  to  the  golden  country,  to 
bloom  forever  amid  the  royal  lilies  of  Paradise,' 
murmured  a  voice  close  to  his  ear. 

The  missionary,  a  little  startled,  turned  ab- 
ruptly. A  middle-aged  woman,  holding  a  palm- 
leaf  fan  to  her  mouth,  was  the  only  person  near 
him. 

'  He  worshipped  the  true  God,'  she  continued, 
suffering  the  individuality  of  her  voice  to  glide 
away  and  mingle  the  wail  of  the  mourners,  and 
occasionally  slurring  a  word  which  she  dared 
not  pronounce  with  distinctness;  'he  worship- 
ped the  true  God,  and  trusted  in  the  Lord  our 
Redeemer,  —  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  he  trusted  in 
Him.  He  called  and  he  was  answered,  he  was 
weary,  weary  and  in  pain ;  and  the  Lord  who 
loved  him,  He  took  him  home  to  be  a  little 
golden  lamb  in  His  bosom  forever.' 

'  How  long,  since,  did  he  go  ? ' 

'  About  an  hour,  Tsayali?  Then  joining  in 
the  wail  again,  '  An  hour  amid  the  royal  lilies ; 
and  his  mother  —  his  own  beautiful  mother  — 
she  of  the  starry  eyes  and  silken  hand ' 


180  WAYSIDE    PREACHING. 

*  Was  he  conscious  ? ' 

'  Conscious  and  full  of  joy.' 

<  What  did  he  talk  of? ' 

'  Only  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  whose  face 
he  seemed  to  see ! ' 

'And  his  father?' 

'  His  father !  —  Oh,  my  master !  my  noble 
master!  he  is  going,  too!  Come  and  see, 
Tsayah  ! ' 

1  Who  sent  for  me  ? ' 

'  Your  handmaid,  Sir.' 

<  Not  the  Sah-ya  ? ' 

The  woman  shook  her  head.  '  The  agony 
was  on  him  —  he  could  not  have  sent,  if  he 
would.' 

'  But  how  dared  you  ?  ' 

There  was  a  look  such  as  might  have  been 
worn  by  the  martyrs  of  old  upon  the  woman's 
face  as  she  expressively  answered,  '  God  was 
here ! ' 

In  the  next  apartment  lay  the  fine  figure  of 
the  Sah-ya,  stretched  upon  a  couch,  evidently 
in  the  last  stage  of  the  fearful  disease  —  his 
pain  all  gone. 

'  It  grieves  me  to  meet  you  thus,  my  friend,' 


WAYSIDE    PREACHING.  181 

remarked  the  visitor,  by  way  of  testing  the  dying 
man's  consciousness. 

The  Sah-ya  made  a  gesture  of  impatience. 
Then  his  fast  stiffening  lips  stirred,  but  they 
were  powerless  to  convey  a  sound ;  there  was  a 
feeble  movement,  as  though  he  would  have 
pointed  at  something,  but  his  half-raised  finger 
wavered  and  sunk  back  again ;  and  a  look  of 
dissatisfaction  amounting  to  anxiety  passed 
over  his  countenance.  Finally  renewing  the 
effort,  he  succeeded  in  laying  his  two  hands 
together,  and  with  some  difficulty  lifted  them 
to  his  forehead;  and  then  quietly  and  calmly 
closed  his  eyes. 

*  Do  you  trust  in  Lord  Gaudama  in  a  mo- 
ment like  this  ? '  inquired  the  missionary,  uncer- 
tain for  whom  the  act  of  worship  was  intended. 
There  was  a  quick  tremor  in  the  shut  lids,  and 
the  poor  Sah-ya  unclosed  his  eyes  with  an  ex- 
pression of  mingled  pain  and  disappointment; 
while    the   death-heavy   hands   slid  from   their 
position  back  upon  the  pillow. 

*  Lord  Jesus,  receive  his  spirit,'  exclaimed  the 
missionary  solemnly. 

A  bright,  joyous  smile  flitted  across  the  face 


182  WAYSIDE    PREACHING. 

of  the  dying  man,  parting  the  lips,  and  even 
seeming  to  shed  light  upon  the  glazed  eyes ;  a 
sigh-like  breath  fluttered  his  bosom  for  a  mo- 
ment ;  the  finger  which  he  had  before  striven  to 
lift,  pointed  distinctly  upward,  then  fell  heavily 
across  his  breast;  and  the  disembodied  spirit 
stood  in  the  presence  of  its  Maker. 

The  thrilling  death-wail  commenced  with  the 
departure  of  the  breath;  for  although  several 
who  had  been  most  assiduous  in  their  atten- 
tions, glided  away  when  it  was  ascertained  that 
he  who  would  have  rewarded  their  fidelity  was 
gone ;  there  were  yet  many  who  were  prevented, 
some  by  real  affection,  some  by  family  pride, 
from  so  far  yielding  to  their  fears,  as  to  with- 
hold the  honors  due  to  the  departed. 

'  You  had  better  go  now,'  whispered  the 
woman,  'you  can  do  no  further  good,  and  may 
receive  harm.' 

'  And  who  are  you  that  you  have  braved  the 
danger  to  yourself,  of  bringing  me  here  ? ' 

'  Pass  on,  and  I  will  tell  you.' 

They  drew  near  the  body  of  the  child,  which, 
by  the  rush  to  the  other  apartment,  had  been 
left,  for  a  moment,  alone. 


WAYSIDE    PREACHING.  183 

'  See ! '  said  the  woman,  lifting  the  cloth  rev- 
erently. A  copy  of  the  Gospel  of  Matthew  lay 
on  his  bosom. 

'  Who  placed  it  there  ?  ' 

'  He  did,  with  his  own  dear  little  hand  — 
Amai!  amai-ai."  and  the  woman's  voice  gave 
expression  to  one  swell  of  agony,  and  then  died 
away  in  a  low  wail,  like  that  which  proceeded 
from  the  adjoining  room.  Presently  she  re- 
sumed, '  I  was  his  mother's  nurse.  She  got  this 
book  of  you,  Sir.  We  thought  my  master 
burned  it,  but  he  kept,  and  maybe  studied  it. 
Do  you  think  that  he  became  a  true  believer?' 

'  To  whom  did  he  shiko  at  that  last  moment, 
Mah-aa  ? ' 

'To  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ — I  am  sure  of 
that.  Do  you  think  the  Lord  would  receive 
him,  Sir?' 

'  Did  you  ever  read  about  the  thief  who  was 
crucified  with  the  Saviour  ?  * 

'  OR,  yes ;  I  read  it  to  Moung-Moung  this 
very  day.  He  was  holding  his  mother's  book 
when  the  disease  smote  him  ;  and  he  kept  it  in 
his  hand,  and  went  up,  with  it  lying  on  his 
bosom.  Yes,  I  remember.' 


184  WAYSIDE    PREACHING. 

'  The  Lord  Jesus  Christ  is  just  as  merciful 
now  as  he  was  then.' 

'  And  so  they  are  all oh,  'ken-pay ah  !  it  is 

almost  too  much  to  believe ! ' 

'  When  did  you  first  become  acquainted  with 
this  religion,  Mah-aa  ? ' 

'  My  mistress  taught  me,  Sir ;  and  made  me 
promise  to  teach  her  baby  when  he  was  old 
enough ;  and  to  go  to  you  for  more  instruction. 
But  I  was  alone,  and  afraid.  I  sometimes  got 
as  far  as  the  big  banyan  tree  on  the  corner,  and 
crawled  away  again  so  trembling  with  terror, 
that  I  could  scarcely  stand  upon  my  feet.  At 
last  I  found  out  Ko  Shway-bay,  and  he  promised 
to  keep  my  secret;  and  he  gave  me  books,  and 
explained  their  meaning,  and  taught  me  how  to 
pray,  and  I  have  been  getting  courage  ever 
since.  I  should  not  much  mind  now,  if  they 
did  find  me  out  and  kill  me.  It  would  be  very 
pleasant  to  go  up  to  Paradise.  I  think  I  should 
even  like  to  go  to-night,  if  the  Lord  would 
please  to  take  me.' 

It  was  two  or  three  weeks  before  the  mission- 
ary resumed  his  customary  place  in  the  zayat 


WAYSIDE    PREACHING.  185 

by  the  wayside.  His  hearers  were  scattered 
widely ;  in  the  neighboring  jungles,  in  far-off 
towns,  and  in  that  other  place  from  whence  '  no 
traveller  returns.' 

Where  was  his  last  hopeful  inquirer  ? 

Dead. 

Where  the  priest? 

Dead. 

Where  the  philosopher  ? 

Fled  away,  none  knew  whither. 

And  the  poor  old  water-bearer  ? 

Dead, —  died  like  a  dog  in  its  kennel;  and 
but  that  some  pitying  Christian  had  succeeded 
in  discovering  her  at  the  last  moment,  without  a 
human  witness.  But,  —  and  the  missionary's 
heart  swelled  with  gratitude  to  God  as  he 
thought  of  it,  —  there  were  other  witnesses, 
nobler,  tenderer,  dearer  to  that  simple,  lone  old 
creature,  than  all  the  earthly  friends  that  ever 
thronged  a  death-bed;  and  these  had  been  her 
bright,  rejoicing  convoy  to  the  Saviour's  pres- 
ence. 

Oh !  how  full  of  awe,  how  fearfully  laden 
with  the  solemn  interests  of  eternity,  appeared 
13 


186  WAYSIDE    PREACHING. 

this  wondrous  work  of  his!  And  how  broad 
and  clear  seemed  his  sacred  commission,  as 
though  at  that  moment  newly  traced  by  the 
finger  of  Jehovah ! 


THE    END. 


TH 


University  of  California  Library 
Los  Angeles 

below. 


0/845.9i| 

ftOCTflGZTO 


RcC'D  YRL  DEd  1 9  2003 


A     000982513     4 


